


Clandestine

by bisexualbellatrix (reg_slivko)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (not that bad but still TW), Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dub con (not main pairing), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Infidelity, Loss of Virginity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Self-Harm, Semi-Public Sex, also I decided that Lavender didn't die in the Battle of Hogwarts because I do what I want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:29:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reg_slivko/pseuds/bisexualbellatrix
Summary: After the war, all Hogwarts students were invited to repeat the year that was interrupted by the Battle.  Harry and Ron passed it up to go to Auror training, the latter trying to get his mind off of his recent breakup.  Parvati Patil came back hoping to improve her grades.  Lavender Brown came back looking for a boyfriend.  Pansy Parkinson came back because she had no plan for life in the real world.  Hermione Granger came back looking for an education.  Draco Malfoy came back dreaming of redemption.





	1. Forbidden

Hermione had been ignoring Malfoy as much as possible for her repeat year, as per usual. He was still scared of her after that punch and probably still thought she was a filthy Mudblood, she was still slightly scared of (but mostly annoyed by) him after everything… it was a balanced relationship of complete disinterest and disdain. Without Harry and Ron to stand up for her, she figured it was best to steer clear of him. Yet, without Harry and Ron around, it seemed like Draco had no reason to be around her anymore, since bugging them was the main reason he was ever in her presence anyway. She only saw him in Advanced Potions. She had always felt a bit uncomfortable with sharing Advanced Potions with him even throughout the normal Hogwarts years, and not exactly for the same reasons she was always uncomfortable around him. It was weird for her to confront the fact that he was actually smart. Smart, and also ambitious: makes sense for a Slytherin, but it was still somewhat foreign to her to watch him actually work towards something, actually care about something most days out of the week. She was always scared he would harass her during class, but it never really happened. They just worked silently and diligently, never really able to forget the other was standing across the room.

Coming into the classroom from the back, Hermione found herself passing Malfoy’s desk. She had prepared herself walking up to have to look away and keep her distance, to hope he wouldn’t notice her, but was surprised to find it empty. He was always the first one to class…

“Welcome to class, everyone!” Slughorn greeted, taking a moment to glance around the room.  
“Well,” he added, noticing Malfoy’s empty desk, “not everyone.”  
“Regardless, today we are talking about some of the potions you’ll need to be brewing for your re-administered N.E.W.T.s! Everyone open your books to page 237…”  
Hermione was trying her best to pay attention, but she kept glancing back to Malfoy’s station to see if he had arrived yet. Who knows what horrible prank he’d pull if he was able to sneak up behind her?   
“Can I help you, Ms. Granger?” Slughorn asked, catching her with her entire head turned back. She snapped forward to look at him so fast it put a bit of a crick in her neck.  
“Er, no, sorry Professor…” Hermione stumbled. Her face flushed: nothing made her feel more guilty than being caught not paying attention.  
“Well, then maybe you can help me! I was just explaining some strategies for adding Valerian root to your mid-brew Draught of Living Death that can prevent the mixture from creating a rather unpleasant smell. Could you name one for me?”  
Hermione tried to not show her nervousness. Obviously she had no idea, but she knew she her only chance was to completely wing it.  
“Er… well… you could… score the root so the air inside escapes before you add it?” Hermione shrugged, clearly not confident in her answer.  
Slughorn frowned. “Actually, that is one of the strategies. Thought I was going to catch you in that one. But, I know you made that up because you were obviously not paying attention!”  
Hermione sighed. He was right, but it wasn’t fair.  
“With N.E.W.T.s coming up, I really don’t have time to repeat myself every time someone misses something! You’ll have to stay late tonight to review what you clearly missed.”  
“I’m sorry, Professor. At least working with you privately will offer a great learning opportunity!” Hermione hoped the suck-up would get her some sympathy from him, even if she could basically hear the eyerolls from her fellow students.  
“Oh, that reminds me, I can’t actually stay late tonight,” Slughorn suddenly added.  
Hermione sighed. Slughorn was quite an improvement over Snape, but he had some really annoying qualities. The exact word she was thinking of for him slipped her mind…  
“Of course you can’t stay late alone, that’s pretty dangerous,” Slughorn considered quietly. At that exact moment, Malfoy burst in, looking disheveled and disoriented. The entire class’ heads whipped around to look at him, as did Slughorn’s.  
“Oh! Perfect timing. Malfoy, you’ll be staying late as well, since you arrived late. You and Granger can work together on the assignment you missed! Yes, that’ll do.”  
Malfoy groaned. Hermione’s head fell into her hands.

Oblivious. The word she was looking for was ‘oblivious’.

As the day ended, the classroom began to empty; However, Hermione and Draco were pinned to their seats, dreading the coming task.  
“Well, I never thought I’d be subjecting you two to mandatory extra credit. You’re my best students!” Slughorn crossed his arms, and Hermione looked down ashamedly. “In a way, it’s an opportunity for both of you, since working together is the only way either of you can work with someone nearly as competent as you. Aside from working with me. Of course, I can’t watch you because I have a meeting. Consider this a chance for student-directed learning!” He seemed proud of himself for re-branding his abandonment of the students as some sort of educational technique.   
As Slughorn was leaving, Hermione was worried to even look at Draco. When she did, expecting a stare of disgust, she found him staring ahead into nothingness. She had noticed he looked a bit helter-skelter when he came into class so late, but up-close it was even worse. Dark circles under his eyes, wrinkled shirt, a disturbing emptiness to his expression.   
“M-malfoy? Where should we start?” Hermione delicately asked.  
Draco stood up and turned to leave suddenly.  
“Hey! Where are you going?” Hermione protested.  
“With him gone, there’s nothing keeping us here: we can just leave and he’ll never know,” Draco replied.  
“He’ll know because we’ll be useless tomorrow when we are supposed to brew this thing! He was right that working with each other is our best shot to understand any of this.” Hermione didn’t feel wonderful about having to rely on Malfoy for anything, but she really needed him for this.   
Draco turned around and begrudgingly approached the table. Hermione sighed in relief.  
“Trust me, I don’t want to be here either, but let’s just try to get some work done,” Hermione offered. Draco only nodded in reply.  
The time went by somewhat quickly, even easily. They worked in silence, and did so with inspiring productivity. They only interacted when they asked each other to hand them some tool or ingredient.  
“Pass me the knife?” Hermione stuck her hand out without looking up, probably not great knife safety. When she didn’t feel the hilt in her palm, she looked up to see what had Draco so distracted. She gasped when she saw the knife in his right hand, and a sizeable gash on his left.   
“Oh my-” Hermione instinctively started to get up to tend to the wound, but stopped herself. “Are you okay?”  
She looked to his face for a reaction, but he was just staring blankly at the cut, watching a trail of blood slowly spill onto the table.   
“Malfoy? I’m… going to heal it, okay?” Hermione asked, drawing her wand. He didn’t look up.  
She cautiously drew her wand and cast a quiet Episkey, which sealed the wound quickly. Draco winced, and it seemed to draw him out of his peculiar trance. He looked up at Hermione, who was standing beside him with a concerned yet confused expression on her face. She waited for him to say something, but he just looked at her.  
“How… how do you have an accident like that?” Hermione asked, hoping to diffuse tension.  
“I… it wasn’t…” Draco tried to answer but wasn’t making much sense. Suddenly, he got up and began to leave the room.  
“What’s going on? Where are you going?” Hermione pleaded exasperatedly.   
Draco stopped and turned around to face her. “Really none of your business, Granger. Just leave me alone. You can figure out the potion just fine on your own.”   
Hermione sighed. He sounded so… tired. It was like he wanted to insult her, but he was entirely lacking any energy to do so. When he glanced at his hand for a moment, the realization hit Hermione like a ton of bricks, and she instantly blurted it out.  
“Oh god, it wasn’t an accident.”   
Draco scowled at her, but Hermione felt sure that he wasn’t angry as much as embarrassed. She understood, since the last person she would want to know if she was having some crisis would be Malfoy.  
“I’m not- I don’t mean to judge you, or something,” Hermione stuttered. “I really just want to make sure everything is, er, okay.”  
“Why would you care about that?” Draco snarled, turning to look away.  
Hermione began to respond, but stopped suddenly, because he was right. Why did she care?  
“I just… of course I can’t just let you carve yourself up, while I’m trying to get work done.” Hermione crossed her arms. “If you lose your fingers or something, Slughorn might fail us.”  
“Oh.” Draco seemed satisfied, even comforted in some sense, by that heartless answer. Hermione figured he wouldn’t have believed the truth that she was really just worried about him. She didn’t believe it herself anyways.   
“Maybe you should go to bed, I can wrap this up, you need to rest.” Hermione was honestly just not prepared for whatever would happen next if she kept hanging around a deranged and confused Malfoy.  
Draco just nodded and began to gather his things, and Hermione started putting some ingredients away into the cabinet. As she was searching for the correct spot for the Infusion of Wormwood, she got that undeniable feeling she was being watched. She glanced behind her and quickly looked away when she realized Draco was staring at her. Ignoring it, she kept putting the ingredients away. Then she heard him step forward, and yelped when she turned around to see him just a few feet away, peering like a cat in the dark.  
“Malfoy?” She wasn’t really asking him anything, just continuing her long streak of desperate and unanswered questions.  
He stepped forward again, this time undeniably within the general “personal space” range. He looked at her with an expression that could almost be described as soft. It was certainly less predatory than Hermione would have anticipated.  
When he stepped forward once more, closing most of the gap between them, Hermione gulped and clutched the phials in her arms defensively. She opened her mouth, but found it dry of words. She had never seen him this close before, and it made him look like a human optical illusion, as if from one angle he was a threat and from the other he was this good-looking, intelligent boy that any girl with no self-respect would want. As if he only moved when he was in the corner of your eye. As if you looked at him from any other perspective, you’d see he was really a shape built of fractured pieces that only looked whole from one specific direction.   
Malfoy delicately placed a hand on the wall beside her face, causing her to flinch.  
“Are you scared of me?” He asked, but it wasn’t at all a taunt. He sounded sad, an emotion Hermione had never truly seen on him before. He just looked muted, drained at his trial. She tried to not think about that.  
“No,” Hermione replied instinctively, unsure of how honest it was. On one hand, she really wasn’t… but if the fact that Draco being this close made her heart race meant she was scared, then she certainly was.  
Draco leaned forward, slowly but surely bringing their faces closer together. Hermione almost didn’t say anything, figuring he couldn’t possibly be doing what it seemed like he was. It wasn’t until he delicately tilted his face that she was willing to consider he actually planned on kissing her.  
“What are you doing?” Hermione asked incredulously, wondering internally why she didn’t just slip away through the very open space to her other side.  
“Just ask me to stop,” Draco quietly replied, his eyes darting from her own eyes to her lips and back again. “If you want me to stop… just ask me to stop.”  
Hermione started to speak, but had no idea what she was going to say. She just watched him come in closer and closer, and when he closed his eyes, she unexpectedly closed her own in response. It felt like she was falling asleep, or slipping into a warm bath, or biting into a chocolate she know she shouldn’t have…  
As soon as she felt his lip brush against hers, she panicked.  
“Stop,” she whispered. She felt him pull away, and it left her feeling relieved yet disappointed, like waking up just as she was about to drift off, or getting out of the bath when the water is still warm, or spitting out that forbidden chocolate. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to deal with the consequences reality tends to bring. When she finally opened her eyes, Draco had stepped much further away and was compulsively running his hands through his hair.  
“Yeah, you’re right, probably for the best,” Draco rushed, breathing through his teeth and nodding a bit feverishly.  
Hermione wanted to apologize, but she also wanted to tell him to fuck directly off, but she also wanted to ask him if he really wanted to kiss her or if this was some weird convoluted prank… so she settled on silently watching him pace around. He gave her one more look, scanning her whole body quickly. He gave her a nod, and an awkward half-wave, and made his way to the door. She just watched him, dumbfounded, as he left. At the archway, he turned back for a moment, and it almost looked like he was going to say something, and it almost looked like his grey eyes were bloodshot and teary. He waved his hand as if to say ‘nevermind,’ chuckled to himself, shoved his hands in his pockets and disappeared around the corner.  
Hermione stood there for a long, long time, reliving the entire experience in her head yet failing still to make any sense of it.

She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience for most of the rest of her night: she of course had no chance at studying, so she simply got ready for bed and slid under the sheets.   
Closing her eyes and turning off her reading light, she was excited for that wonderful way sleep lets you escape from the questions, the stress, the intrusive thoughts about boys that you definitely hated this morning and yet everything feels so different now but of course it can’t be different and of course he’s still the same person he’s always been but why is he acting so different and why did the way he looked at you make you feel like he was seeing you for the first time and why did you feel more vulnerable when he pulled away than when he was about to kiss you and why did his skin feel so electric against yours and...  
Hermione’s stream of consciousness served as her method of counting sheep, and before she even realized, she was submerged under the cover of sleep.


	2. Illicit

Hermione spent way too much time getting ready for breakfast. She had plenty of time to do so, since she had woken up at an ungodly early hour with no chance of going back to sleep. When reading got boring, she decided to make sure she looked her absolute best, just in case someone was paying extra attention- no one in particular of course, just people in general. About 50 charms on her hair got it to calm down for the most part, though it wasn’t by any means straight. She tried to do that thing with makeup where you look like you’re not wearing makeup and you’re just naturally gorgeous, and it didn’t really go according to plan but it turned out okay anyways.

She was still quite early, and the Hall was mostly empty. She glanced around, just randomly curious who was here, especially noticing the Slytherin table. Why did her heart race when she looked for him, and why did it sink when he wasn’t there?

She glanced to Draco’s normal spot quickly between every few bites. She thought she could help it, but she never could. How was she supposed to think about anything else?

She heard the door open and looked over to see Malfoy and his gang- Blaise, Pansy, and Nott- burst in. She immediately looked away, as if looking directly at Malfoy would damage her vision. She could just barely hear some annoying conversation, but Malfoy didn’t seem to be participating. He sat down with them and didn’t even grab anything to eat.

She kept looking up and looking away, and he was always just staring at the table, or at his hands, or at the wall. Seemed like a pretty predictable and boring experience, looking at Draco while he looked at nothing, but she still seemed to always come back to it. Of course, her luck ran out when she caught his gaze, and they made very brief and very uncomfortable eye contact. Hermione nearly jumped in her seat, and looked away as if that would prevent him from noticing. She saw him stand up in the corner of her eye, and she cautiously watched him walk right out the door.

She tried to let him leave, really, but it didn’t last long. A few moments after he walked out, Hermione got up from her seat and dashed out the door. She glanced each way down the hall until she saw Draco’s lanky form walking towards the courtyard. She jogged towards him and he turned at the sound of her footsteps. 

“What do you want?” Draco grumbled, looking away from her.

“Are we not going to… talk about it?” Hermione lowered her voice.

“I don’t see why we need to,” Draco replied. Why did he look so hurt?

“I just want to know what’s going on.” Hermione crossed her arms.

“Nothing’s ‘going on,’” Draco deflected, “something went on but you turned me down and now it’s not going anymore.”

Hermione gawked for a moment. Did he mean some sort of crush?

“Why do you care so much anyways? I figured you’d just want to put it behind you,” Draco returned. Hermione started to say something, but then stopped. She hadn’t really considered why it mattered, why she wanted to talk to him about it. When he put it that way, she didn’t see the purpose of having a conversation at all… which made her feel like an idiot, and made her face rather hot. She hoped Draco wouldn’t notice.

“You’re blushing,” he stated bluntly. Okay, so he noticed. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Hermione just swallowed and looked at the ground. Breakfast must have ended, because students began pouring through the halls, heading to their first class of the day. Draco glanced around and then pulled her aside into a slightly more discreet alcove.

“Granger, why are you trying to talk to me?” Draco pressed.

“I guess I just wanted closure,” Hermione mumbled.

“Closure? What about it wasn’t… closed?” Draco quirked an eyebrow. Hermione kept looking away- it had made sense in her head, but now the whole thing was unraveling.

Draco put an arm on the wall beside her, and by leaning in just a bit his whole form dwarfed her. She looked up at him sheepishly, with an obvious sense of déjà vu.

“Oh,” Draco smirked, “I get it.”

“I… I don’t think I do,” Hermione replied.

“You want,” his eyebrows raised, “_ closure _.” The way he said, low and intimate, made a jolt of energy run down her spine.

“I- I don’t know what you mean,” Hermione maintained.

“You know,” Draco raised his free hand and motioned air quotes: “you want ‘closure.’ Is that what they call it these days?”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Then what do you want?” Draco demanded. He leaned in just a bit closer. Hermione pushed herself back into the wall as far as she could go.

“I- er, I was just-”

“What do you want?” He repeated.

Hermione looked around desperately. The halls had mostly emptied as classes were beginning. She considered just running away, but something made her want to stay.

“Look at me,” Draco commanded, and for some reason, Hermione immediately looked into his eyes.

“What do you want, Granger?” He asked one more time: softer, gentler than before.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered honestly.

“If you decide what you want,” Draco said quietly, studying her face as he spoke, “and what you want is to live a little, and get some real, raw, mind-blowing closure-”

Hermione gulped.

“Meet me here tonight, after everyone’s gone to bed and the prefects’ rounds have ended.”

“Are you joking?” Hermione blurted out, a little too loud. She lowered her voice, “I can’t meet you for- for, er, _ closure _ as you put it. Nearly letting you kiss me might be one of the most outrageous things I’ve ever done!”

“Doesn’t sound like a very fun life,” Malfoy sneered.

“Better than making a ridiculously stupid mistake by having you take my virg-” Hermione stopped suddenly, but the damage was done. She was sure he would mock her, or at least give her some evil grin, but instead all he did was exhale like he’d been punched in the gut and slowly wipe his hands down his face.

“Oh… oh wow. Okay. You shouldn’t have told me that.” Draco’s face went pale, paler than normal.

“Obviously. I’m sure the whole school will know by dinner,” Hermione sighed.

“No, no,” Draco interjected, “it’s not that. It’s just now that I know no one else has ever… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about it.”

Hermione was speechless. Thinking about _ what _, exactly?

“Well… sorry to, er, hear that,” Hermione stuttered. 

Draco suddenly gained his composure, stepping back a bit and straightening his body as rigid as a board, looking down at her blankly.

“I suppose it was just a simple mistake,” Draco stated firmly, “and it won’t happen again.”

Hermione nodded, feeling relieved. Definitely not disappointed, or anti-climactic, right?

“There’s your closure, Granger.”

“Thanks, Malfoy.” 

“If that’s not enough…” Draco added quietly, looking at her. Hermione’s breath hitched. 

He paused for a moment.

“You know where I’ll be. Just in case.”

She was about to say something, but he just turned and walked away. Hermione watched him go, only realizing she was late for class once he was long gone.

\---

Of course she thought about it throughout her classes. She nearly scoffed aloud when she considered it: Malfoy propositioning her? What universe had she accidentally stepped into? She continued to replay it in her mind in every class, and between every class, and at every meal. _ What was he on about? How could he possibly think I’d want to sleep with him? Why do I think he’s right that there’s only one way to really have closure? _

Advanced Potions was the worst, as one would imagine. Malfoy arrived early this time, and Hermione had to walk past his desk to get to her own. Draught of Living Death is a bitch to brew when you’re totally focused and prepared, so trying to do it under her current psychological condition was like trying to ride a unicycle with only one leg.

She managed to scrape through, using a lot of what she had practiced with Malfoy. It just took way, way too long. She’d get to the next step, and remember what she had done that night, and it helped. But then thinking about Malfoy normally always led to thinking about him… abnormally, to say the least. Knowing he was just a few feet behind her, and knowing that she absolutely could not turn to look at him, was excruciating. It’s like how everything is funnier when you know you can’t laugh, except in this case it’s that Malfoy is even more annoying beautiful when you can’t look at him.

The day winded down to a close, and Hermione felt that fluttery nervous feeling building more the further the sun went down. _ After everyone’s gone to bed and the prefects’ rounds have ended_, she kept repeating to herself. Back in the girls’ dormitory, it was the typical nightly routine- girls dashing around with towels on their head, those studious few drawing their curtains so they could work on assignments, everyone fighting for space in the bathroom to brush their teeth and apply creams and such. 

“Hermione, you’re especially quiet,” Parvati suddenly observed.

“What? Oh, sorry,” Hermione replied, pulled out of her thoughts. 

Parvati paused for a bit, expecting an explanation. “Well? Is everything alright?” she finally asked.

“I’m just a little distracted.” Hermione shook her head and tried to pretend she was reading a book.

“She had to study late with Malfoy after Advanced Potions yesterday,” Fay Dunbar announced. The entire room gasped, turning to Hermione with looks of shock and concern. Hermione just sighed. Fay was a bit of a gossip.

“Oh Merlin, are you okay? Why didn’t you say anything? He must have been awful,” Parvati said, seemingly feeling guilty for even bringing it up. 

“It wasn’t as bad as you’d think. He didn’t say anything,” Hermione replied.

Lavender gave her a puzzled look. “He didn’t? Did he _ do _anything?” 

“Not really,” Hermione swallowed, afraid they could somehow see on her face exactly what he had done.

“Well then why were you two talking in the hall this morning?” Fay questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“WHAT?” Lavender bellowed. 

Hermione rubbed her temples. She was officially out of half-baked explanations.

“It was- we were, er, he and I- nothing important. You’re all making a big deal out of something that really isn’t worth the trouble.” Hermione could tell she was blushing, hard.

“Well, that isn’t comforting at all.” Fay frowned. “Are you afraid to tell us?”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, just leave her alone,” Parvati shyly pleaded.

“But now I want to know what happened,” Lavender protested.

“He’s not quite as horrible as he used to be, at least to me. Maybe he’s actually a bit more mature.” Hermione was just hopeful the line of questioning could end soon.

“Unlikely,” Fay Dunbar crossed her arms, “once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”

Hermione looked away. 

“You should know that better than anyone,” Fay continued.

“I know better than anyone that that’s a horrible thing to say,” Hermione replied coolly. Fay’s smirk vanished. “What’s the point of all of this, of anything we did, if no one can ever be forgiven?” 

No one had anything else to say, apparently, because it was a silent shuffle to bed and a few quiet “goodnights” as lamps were turned off before everyone began falling asleep.

Hermione tried to sleep, of course, but from the beginning some part of her knew she had no chance. 

After quite some time had passed, well past midnight, she was randomly inspired to get out of bed. Before she even thought about it, she was walking out of the girls’ wing. Only when she entered the common room did she consider where she was going. There was something spooky about a place like the common room, normally bustling and chaotic, empty and cold at night. She certainly considered going back to bed, but felt an unexplained desire to take a walk. After two very strange days, maybe a change of pace and a bit of healthy exercise would be the antidote. 

The halls were actually somewhat well-illuminated, the moonlight bathing everything in a soft blue-ish glow. Malfoy had said she would know where to find him, and apparently she did, because turning the hall towards the library there he was, leaning against the wall. She wondered how long he had been there, seemingly doing nothing but waiting. She stopped when she saw him, but he must have heard her, because he looked up and gazed at her. She wondered if he would smile, say he was glad she came, or maybe mock her or something of the sort. Oddly enough, he didn’t react much at all. He simply waited. Hermione wanted him to walk over to her, but he just stood there, so she cautiously approached him. As she came closer, she could almost see a smirk dash across his face, but she wasn’t entirely sure. 

Taking time to study him, he seemed more put together than before. His silvery hair was perfectly styled (as is normally to be expected), he was wearing that all-black suit he sported in lieu of the actual uniform (how and why did he nearly always do that??), and the look in his eyes was less frantic than before, more controlled. The closer Hermione got, the further he had to look down to meet her gaze, though he never moved his head and just peered down at her over his sharp features: why had Hermione never noticed how tall he was, and why did it only intimidate her now?

When she was within a half-meter of him, she stopped, once again expected some sort of conversation to take place. He still stood there silently, scanning her form with smoky, half-lidded eyes. Just as she was about to say something- though she didn’t know what, she just needed to break the silence- he suddenly pulled her into a passionate, powerful kiss. Tensing at first, Hermione found herself slowly relaxing into his embrace, letting him hold her weight with the arm snaked around her back. His lips and tongue explored her mouth, while his hands explored her body: it was a bit overstimulating in some ways. Perhaps what captured Hermione’s attention most was the warmth of his body pressed against hers. As he held her closer, the softest moan escaped her lips, muffled by the kiss. The hand running through her hair clenched a bit, gently tugging at her scalp, and she moaned again. 

Draco suddenly spun her around, pushing her against the wall with unanticipated force- but thankfully not hard enough to knock her head on the stone. Hermione gasped, a shiver running down her spine at the show of dominance. Draco took a moment to drink in the sight- Hermione’s hair flying wildly against the wall, her face flushed, her lips parted and glistening, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Hermione felt oddly exposed with him looking at her with _ that _look in his eye. 

Hermione was well-aware that what was happening was absolutely insane, unbelievable, and ridiculous. A sizable portion of her brain was screaming about how this was dangerous, stupid, and illogical. However, the rest of her had come completely to terms with the reality that she wanted this greatly. She didn’t bother herself with why, she just knew she couldn’t fight her desire (even if it was simply morbid curiosity) any longer. An even smaller part of her had realized that she had considered the idea of kissing Draco before this year, even. Hard not to consider it when he looks the way he does, walks around acting the way he does, and is the subject of naughty rumors the way he is. Now Hermione was living a naughty rumor, and it was the most intoxicating feeling. Maybe she really did crave something exciting, ill-advised, and forbidden from time to time like he suggested before.

Draco leaned in to kiss her again, but this time dodged her face and began kissing and licking all along her neck and jaw. Hermione squirmed underneath his grasp, but he tightened his grip. She didn’t realize her hips were bucking forward until she felt her thigh brush against his groin. She gasped a bit, but continued to rub against it, delighting to herself as she felt his length grow and harden. He growled against her neck, delicately biting the sensitive skin. She panted, the undeniable feeling of pure erotic desire pulsing inside her. Draco pressed her hips back with his own, wantonly rubbing himself on her through their clothes. His mouth found its way back to hers and Hermione grabbed the back of his head, forcing him deeper into the kiss. She had never experienced something so intense, so filled with need and desperation. It made her knees weak as she relied on Draco’s weight pressing into her to hold her up. It wasn’t quite enough though, as she felt herself begin to slide down the stone wall. Instead of pulling her back up, Draco went with her, picking up her legs behind the knee so she straddled him while he knelt on the floor. Draco began quickly undoing the buttons of her robes, pushing the sides out of the way but not taking the robe completely off. Hermione ran her hands through his hair, down his back, over his muscular shoulders and arms as he felt her body through her pajamas. He pulled away to look at them, and Hermione was a little embarrassed to reveal she slept in a matching full-sleeve flannel set: not quite fancy lingerie, or something casual yet sexy like just a tank top and knickers. Yet Draco seemed to enjoy them just as much because he swallowed dryly at the sight, delicately running his fingers over the fabric. The softness of his touch and the bob of his Adam’s apple made Hermione shiver. She wanted to kiss him again, but watching him reverently unbutton her top was nearly as exciting. He went one at a time, like he was opening a present without tearing the paper. When they were all undone, he delicately pushed the sides away, and the soft brush of the lining combined with the rush of cold air on her torso caused her nipples to harden almost instantly. Draco cradled her breasts, using his pointer finger to swipe over the nipples simultaneously. Hermione wanted to close her eyes or look away, but when he looked into her eyes she felt helpless to break the gaze. It was like he saw into her, saw through her, completely. 

Her back arched at his touch, inspiring Draco to finally kiss her again, just as deep as before, but with a slightly slower and more patient pace. After he was apparently satisfied with her chest, his hands trailed down to the waistband of her trousers. She instinctively lifted her hips off the floor, but gasped as he pulled her trousers and knickers down to her ankles. His hand slid its way back up her thigh, slowly approaching her opening. Her looked her right in the eyes again, and Hermione bit her lip. The closer he got, the more aggravatingly slow his pace became, until he was just barely inching his way forward. Her breathing quickened, and she felt her insides clench and flex. When her hips involuntarily bucked forward, Draco finally touched her, running his fingers between the lips and ever-so-slightly smirking at her state of excessive wetness. Hermione gasped at the sensation, suddenly very aware that no one else had touched her there before (which had been true to many of the places Draco had already touched her, but this was absolutely different). Draco almost instantly found her clitoris and circled it with thumb, turning Hermione’s gasp into a stuttered moan, which was silenced quickly by Draco kissing her again. He pressed harder into the bud, making Hermione buck and squirm underneath him. She grabbed onto his hair and neck, nearly pulling him down with the force of her grip. A slender finger slipped into her, and Hermione blushed at how easily it entered her. While still rubbing the clit, Draco moved his finger slowly in and out of her, at an almost punishingly slow pace. Hermione let out the tiniest sob within Draco’s kiss, completely overwhelmed by the feeling already. He responded with increased intensity of everything: a deeper kiss, a faster swirling around her clitoris, twisting the finger inside her slightly as he rocked it in and out of her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders so tight that you’d think her life depended on it, because in the moment it almost felt like it did. She felt something building inside her, and was sure she was approaching something that she never knew she needed so badly. Draco inserted a second finger, this time having to take a bit of time to fit it in. Hermione thrashed under him: feeling herself stretch wider to fit his fingers was objectively painful, yet it brought such a powerful physical and psychological pleasure at the same time. Draco bit her lip gently, a bit flustered by the fact that she was so tight for even two fingers to be a challenge.

Hermione began to whimper, that feeling growing and warming her throughout her entire body. As her whimpers quickened in pace, Draco did as well, pushing deeper and rubbing faster. Hermione bucked and writhed uncontrollably to the point that Draco was almost struggling to keep his hand placed properly. He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her into the kiss in a desperate attempt to keep her quiet. Hermione moaned wantonly into him, her hands grabbing at his jacket. She felt it building and building and it was like she flying higher and higher and faster and then all of a sudden- nosedive.

Instead of getting louder, Hermione’s moans went silent, her breathing stopped, everything went dead quiet. Draco gasped against the kiss, knowing she was deep in the throes of her orgasm. Hermione threw her head back, forcing her mouth shut to keep all the noises she wanted to make inside. Draco instantly latched on to her exposed neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Hermione barely even noticed though, too far gone into the feeling of electricity rippling across her body. She was first numb to everything, and then hyper-sensitive to it: the cold floor, Draco’s mouth on her neck, the fingers still pressed against her and inside her. She grabbed Draco’s wrist, pulling him out of her, unable to handle any more sensation. She leaned back and closed her eyes, physically exhausted yet more awake than she had felt in a long time. When she opened her eyes again, Draco was looking her up and down, his eyes dark and piercing. As Hermione’s breathing finally began to stabilize, their eyes met, and Draco put a finger over his lips, motioning her to be quiet. She was puzzled: wasn’t she already being pretty quiet? But then he began to slink down onto the floor until he was lying completely flat on his stomach. Then all he had to do was grab her thighs and pull her forward and suddenly his mouth surrounded her. 

Oh, yes, staying quiet was more of a challenge now. Hermione bit down on her lip, her hands immediately grabbing at his hair. She didn’t mean to pull on it quite so hard, but his tongue was swirling around her clit and she could barely take it. He ran his tongue roughly over the bud and Hermione gasped, unintentionally kicking which caused her feet to slide wildly across the floor. Draco growled against her, the vibrations making Hermione let out the smallest whimper, which she found quite embarrassing. His grip on her thighs tightened, and his pace quickened, sending Hermione down a familiar path going much faster than she anticipated.

She started to grind into his face, and he had to grab at her thighs roughly to keep her in place. That didn’t mean she was still, though: her torso writhed and she couldn’t stop tossing her head back and forth, as if that would slow down what was happening. Of course it didn’t, and Hermione leaned forward as she fell over the edge inside, another orgasm turning her mind all gooey and making her eyelids heavy. This one felt different- faster but stronger, like more was happening all at once- and before now Hermione hadn’t realized that each orgasm could be different. Hermione wanted to close her eyes again but she heard Malfoy shuffling around, so she watched him slide up from his spot on the floor and immediately latch onto her mouth, kissing her like he craved her more than anything. She could taste herself and it made her stomach twist in the most wonderful way. When she felt him move a bit and heard the sound of fabric rustling, she realized he was hastily making work of his fly. Draco being fully clothed this entire time while she was in a state of half-undress had made her a little nervous before, but knowing he was about to release himself made her even more nervous, even if it made her unexplainably excited. She was pretty curious to see him, but she ended up feeling it before seeing it: Draco never pulled away from the kiss while he began to delicately rub his head over and through her folds. Hermione gasped at the size of the head and felt herself get even wetter at the touch. Draco pulled back from the kiss just enough to look at Hermione’s face, and as she met his gaze, he pushed the first inch of himself into her. 

Hermione wrapped her arms around his back, hoping to brace herself. Just the first intrusion felt so intense, she had no idea how she would handle the rest… or even how much was left to go. Draco breathed slowly, forcing himself to be patient but noticeably struggling with it. He pushed further and Hermione yelped at the pain of trying to fit him inside her. Before she had finished even making the sound, Draco’s hand suddenly covered her mouth, and the look in his eyes was hungry and desperate. Yet, his other hand ran a delicate thumb along her jawline, then brushed her hair back and away from her face and neck. Hermione sighed, relaxing at his touch, and already felt the pain subside. She nodded to him ever so slightly. With that cue, Draco closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and pressed further. Hermione’s howl was muffled by the slender, yet strong, hand over her face, and she closed her eyes and focused on the weight of it rather than the tearing and stinging feeling. Thankfully it faded fast, leaving only the wonderful sensation of Draco inside her.

_ Draco is inside me_, Hermione couldn’t suppress the thought anymore, and it made her feel so strange and so good and full of questions. 

She met his gaze again and wondered if he could see in her eyes her confusion, her need, or her complete obsession with this feeling. Whatever he saw inspired him to push in even further, all the way to the hilt.

A tear slid down Hermione’s cheek, a culmination of the pain, the pleasure, and the over-stimulation. Draco’s free hand delicately wiped it away, and Hermione felt herself smile under his hand. She scanned his face but it was surprisingly blank, simply staring down at her with those steely eyes. Hermione could barely comprehend how deep he was inside her, how completely full and surrounded she felt. As he slowly pulled himself out of her, just barely, she let out that embarrassing whimper again. The fact that she could barely fit his size meant that she clearly felt every detail of his cock and it was making her head spin. He thrust back in just as slowly as he pulled away and Hermione’s head fell back limply. The hand covering her mouth loosened its grip, and Hermione could hear herself breathing heavily against it. Draco pulled back again and she shuddered, barely managing to keep quiet. He gained pace, slowly adding more depth to his thrusts. Hermione was swirling in the feeling, completely lost in desire. She could still feel the afterglow of her orgasms, and he was tearing right through it with that absolute monster. It was all too much- and yet she wanted to beg him for more.

_ Harder, Draco. More, Draco. Please, Draco. _

She refused to give in to the desire to grovel for him.

_ Perfect, Draco. Feels so good, Draco. _

He picked up pace and Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and focusing on the way he felt inside her. It felt like the perfect balance between friction and smoothness, she had nothing to compare it to. 

He pulled himself most of the way out, and Hermione suddenly felt a jolt run straight through her, causing her to involuntarily moan much too loud. Draco’s hand quickly returned to her mouth, and he repeated the same movement, hitting her spot again. She whimpered under his hand, her hands grabbing at his hair and neck. He leaned in and buried his head in her neck, kissing her all the way from her shoulder to her ear. The hand not on her mouth gripped her firmly at her waist, preventing her from rocking back each time he plunged into her. It made his assault on her most sensitive spot even more intense. 

Hermione wrapped her legs around him without even thinking about it, pulling him into her. Draco ever so softly moaned against her neck, and it was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard in her life, not that she had an extensive history with erotic noises.

That feeling was building again, like a firework fuse sparkling as it got shorter. Hermione was bucking and arching her back so hard she figured she looked like she was convulsing or being exorcised or something. An exorcism might actually be a good comparison to the feeling: something primal and powerful being torn out of her, but in a good way. She could feel Draco’s breathing quicken against her neck, the air tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. She crooned under his hand, and he bit her jawline lightly in response. She grabbed onto his arms so hard she normally would’ve worried about hurting him, but she was too distracted to even properly notice. Draco kissed and sucked along her ear and thrust into her faster, sending the spark down that fuse faster than Hermione had prepared for. Draco clamped his hand over her mouth even harder in anticipation, and it proved to be wildly necessary as Hermione completely lost control, moaning wantonly into his hand as she came. She felt her muscles flexing around him and doubled over before falling back against the wall again. Draco had to pull away from her neck to keep from getting smacked in the face with her head. He continued to thrust into her, which made her see stars behind her closed eyelids. It didn’t last much longer, though, and with a few more thrusts she heard him shudder and groan and his movement slowed to a halt. She could just barely feel him flexing inside her, but it was hard to make out against her own sensitive and shaking muscles. They stayed there for a moment before he cautiously pulled his hand off her mouth, and Hermione relished the fresh air on her face. She was too dazed to even open her eyes as he slid out of her and she heard him re-button his fly. It was only when she heard him stand up that she opened her eyes. Of course she felt like a slag, laying against the wall with her clothes halfway pulled off and cum leaking out of her, but it was also the most satisfied she had probably felt in her life: it was like the feeling of getting an O on an exam combined with finishing a perfect plate of Thanksgiving dinner. 

She looked up at Draco, who had turned to face away from her. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it back after it became rather unkempt, and adjusted his jacket. With a deep breath and without a word, he walked forward and disappeared into the darkness.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read so far, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I was trying to challenge myself to write an entire smut scene with no dialogue and it ended up extremely long and detailed (probably the longest straight smut scene I've ever written) and as much as I am going to hell for it I'm also pretty proud of how it turned out.  
Could I have maybe not had them gone straight from almost kissing to having sex? Perhaps, but I'm terrible at slowburn so, sorry lol. Chapter 3 is in progress so stay tuned!


	3. Secretive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I've formatted this work so that dashes (---) indicate a time-jump ahead, while tildes (~) indicate a change in perspective irrelevant of any time difference.

Hermione jolted awake the moment the sun began to rise. She knew she had been dreaming about something, but she could only remember bits and pieces, simply impressions of the emotions tied to the dream. Reality hit when she looked to the side of her bed and saw her trainers kicked off but still tied. She remembered taking them off in a hurry, desperate to crawl back into bed before anyone noticed she was gone, because if they noticed she was gone they could figure out where she was- _ oh. _

She felt her face become unbearably hot. All of a sudden she remembered what had happened, and thinking about it made her feel like her stomach was sinking to her feet- the feeling was somewhat unpleasant yet kind of addictive. Having sex for the first time was already a major incident, but secret midnight sex against a wall? Sex with Draco Malfoy? That was a lot to take in… literally. 

Of course a significant portion of her was internally yelling that this was a horrible mistake, it’s literally _ Draco Malfoy _, could she have possibly picked a worse person to hook up with? She admitted to herself that she’d fantasized about it before. But that’s what it should’ve been, a fantasy, nothing more. Part of her almost believed it really was, considering how surreal it felt. Neither of them had said anything, which made the whole thing feel like a dream even more so than it already had. The end was the strangest part, certainly. He just… left. It was extremely confusing. On one hand, who wouldn’t be offended by that? On the other, what else could have happened? She had almost no idea what to expect when she went down that hallway looking for “closure” with Malfoy, but she at least knew she didn’t exactly expect cuddling and chocolate-covered strawberries. The truth was, she wasn’t that scared that he left so quickly. What scared her was knowing she had wanted him to stay.

~

Draco woke up much too late, feeling both exhausted and refreshed. He smiled to himself almost as soon as his eyes opened, reminiscing on the incredible night he’d had. But the smile faded as the internal conflict began. Granger had always driven him properly mad: first it was that she was so annoyingly smart and pretty and wonderful, then it was that she actually had friends and he didn’t, then she developed into a young woman conveniently during Draco’s uncomfortable and randy development into a young man, and as that went on she continued to assert herself as the one thing Draco couldn’t have. She was too good for him, and he’d treated her like garbage, and he had thought she was garbage but he only realized much too late that he never truly believed it. 

He remembered asking his parents what the big deal was about “mudbloods” anyways when he came back from his second year. How did he never ask that question before? They said mudbloods weren’t real wizards, but Hermione was the best witch in the whole school. They said mudbloods didn’t understand their culture but Hermione learned everything from books until she knew more than most purebloods. They said mudbloods wanted to destroy wizarding society, but they wouldn’t explain how. Every day he learned more about how much of a complete moron he was, and saw more proof that he was in too deep to turn back. 

But he was in too deep into Granger, too. Much, much too deep.

Draco groaned to himself, desperate to banish that thought before he became aroused. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Blaise sing-songed as he pulled Draco’s bed curtain aside. “Oi, you look like crap,” he added.

“Nothing like invasion of privacy and an insult to perk you up in the morning,” Draco grumbled.

“You can’t fool me, Drake. I know the signs: sweat on your brow, underslept, glimmer in your eye. You got laid!” Blaise shoved him on the shoulder playfully.

“You’re such a creep, Zabini. What if I just slept poorly?” Draco responded, trying on his best poker face.

“I’m sure you did, since you left the dorms in the middle of the night.” Blaise looked much too proud of himself.

“What’re you spying on me for? Seems like you’re wishing I’d shagged you,” Draco grimaced.

“One, ew. Two, so you _ are _saying you shagged someone?” 

“Bugger off,” Draco mumbled, admitting defeat and crawling out of bed. Blaise laughed behind him.

“You are such a dog! I’m studying all night so I don’t fail my damn N.E.W.T.s, meanwhile you’re slinking around the castle at night, getting some strange.”

_ Stranger than you know _, Draco thought to himself.

“So, who’s the unlucky lass? Got back together with Pansy?” 

“Please, no. She’s much too clingy: besides, she’s clinging onto someone else these days.” Draco walked to the bathroom to get ready for breakfast, but Blaise followed him.

“You know she’d dump him to get with you again,” Blaise countered.

“That’s exactly the problem, too desperate.” Draco began brushing his teeth.

“Who cares?” Blaise shrugged.

Draco sighed internally. Blaise would never get it. Pansy was always fawning over Draco and flattering him and trying to manipulate him into something. It was sweet at times that she had always wanted him, but Granger was perhaps the girl least interested in him. Granger was honest, brutally honest even, and chasing her was so intoxicating. Even after sleeping with her, he couldn’t fight the feeling he was still chasing her. Of course he was, because he knew he would never be satisfied with just once as soon as it began. The way she looked at him with those beautiful brown eyes as he plunged inside her...

Damn, he was going to have a rough time keeping himself together through breakfast.

\---

“Theo, darling, have a strawberry!” Pansy chirped, putting the fruit to his mouth. Draco looked at them even though he found the display rather gross. Theo seemed to enjoy the attention, even if there was a bit of panic in his eyes. Draco smirked, turning back to his plate: he poked around some pastries with his fork, but found himself mostly lacking any appetite. Well, he still had an appetite, just not for food.

It was around that time that he happened to look up and see Granger walk through the door. She was alone, clutching a book to her chest. He looked back down, not wanting to get caught looking at her. He only looked again right as she sat down between some girls, and he noticed she sat very slowly and delicately, wincing ever so slightly as she made contact with the bench.

Draco’s eyes widened. Could she be that sore the next morning? His cock seemed pretty excited by that idea, and he quickly looked back to his plate, determined to stare at his eggs until he could stop imagining things.

“Draco, you’re looking a bit dull. And acting a bit dull,” Pansy moped. He looked over at her and saw her perched on Nott’s lap, his hands wrapped around her waist. Draco gulped, and Pansy smirked.

“Are you jealous?” She said, quieter this time. Draco laughed.

“Jealous of Nott? Good one Pans, that did cheer me up a bit actually.”

Pansy frowned. Theo didn’t seem to appreciate the exchange either. But everyone jumped when McGonagall seemed to appear out of nowhere.

“Miss Parkinson,” she chirped, “I would oblige you to remove yourself from Mister Nott.”

Pansy blushed, sliding off his lap and onto her own seat. 

“Ten points from Slytherin. Please, at least consider behaving yourselves in common areas.” And with that, she was gone as abruptly as she appeared.

Draco took the distraction as an opportunity to glance at Hermione, who was reading her enormous book while she ate. He smiled a little at the sight- did she ever stop reading?

_ She wasn’t reading last night, _that unhelpful voice in his head chimed in.

He considered to himself if leaving was the right thing to do, which was a very foreign concept to Draco, who had spent most of his life not considering the right or wrong thing, just the easier thing. Surely it was right, though. What was there to say? She got what she wanted from him, and it was only fair after everything she had endured on his behalf that he just give her his best and then get the hell out. He figured he was lucky she didn’t sober up and punch him (again) as soon as she’d finished her orgasm.

That was a part of it for him as well. Something Blaise referred to as “post-nut clarity,” as revolting as the term was. He said it was when you immediately realize you made a mistake when the sex is over. Then again, Blaise would’ve called what Draco did “ejaculate and evacuate” so Draco was understandably disinterested in Blaise’s opinion on the matter. 

Was it really a mistake? That’s the million-galleon question, then. _ Certainly, of course _ , Draco confidently concluded, _ but it was the best mistake I ever made. _

~

Hermione paced around her room, a lot. She was about to go into Advanced Potions. She was sure Draco would want to talk about what happened. She had been trying to prepare what to say, but it was always a false start.

_ It was a mistake, Malfoy. _But that seemed too harsh.

_ I’m sorry if I led you on. _No, that’s too nice.

She couldn’t figure out what to say because she couldn’t decide what she herself believed. She kept thinking about it all day but it never seemed to materialize. She knew she was running out of time when she entered the classroom and saw Malfoy leaning against his desk. He looked up at her, met her gaze for a moment, and looked away. It was only a few people in the classroom since there was still time before the lecture began, so she knew he would try to pull her into a corner or something.

She prepared, she waited, she… why wasn’t he coming over? 

She glanced over and yep, he was still at his desk, flipping through the textbook. More students filtered in and it was like he didn’t even care she was there! Who does he think he is?

_ He thinks he’s Draco Malfoy _ , she answered her own question. _ He’s always thought he was the best thing in the world. What did I expect? _

Hermione turned away, clenching her jaw. That prat just used her for a hook-up! He thought this was some sort of sleazy one-night stand!

_ But isn’t that what you were going to tell him it was? _Her brain very annoyingly observed. She relaxed a bit, switching quickly from indignant to, once again, confused.

As soon as class ended, most everyone was desperate to leave for dinner, so the classroom emptied quickly. Hermione, however, stayed behind. She waited until most of the students had left, and Draco was leaving with the last of them, when she grabbed at his sleeve and pulled him back into the room.

“We should talk about it,” Hermione demanded.

“Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? I’m in a time-loop,” Draco grimly replied.

“It was a mistake.” Why did she feel so wrong saying that?

“I know,” Draco stated matter-of-factly. Hermione frowned. That was not exactly how she’d pictured his response. 

“You know?” She asked incredulously.

“I mean, of course,” he explained, “would you ever actually sleep with me on purpose?”

Hermione didn’t know how to answer that.

“Of course it was on purpose, I’m not saying it was a literal accident,” Draco continued, “it’s just that… obviously, you couldn’t have been in your right mind. Obviously, you regret it. And I’m sorry.”

Hermione was sure she was seeing things.

“You’re sorry…?” 

“I- yes, I’m sorry,” Draco repeated.  
“What for?” Hermione questioned.

“For… taking advantage… of what must have been, er, a pretty severe lapse in judgment.” 

“You WH-” Hermione nearly yelled, but heard the ambient noises of students outside, so she looked around and shuffled into the potions closet, motioning for Draco to join her. He did, and shut the door behind him. It was nearly pitch black inside.

“You _ what _?” Hermione finished in one of those whisper-yells.

“I what… what?” 

“You- you think you took advantage of me? Are you serious?”

“I’m confused,” Draco announced.

“I’m a grown woman, and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you worrying about who I concern myself with!”

“What worries me is that surely you would never want to concern yourself with me!”

“Well, I did, didn’t I?” Hermione smugly pointed out.

“Yeah, and you regret it, don’t you?” Draco countered.

Hermione paused. “I…”

Draco’s eyes went wide, though Hermione couldn’t see it. 

“Do you? Regret it, I mean?” Hermione asked instead.

“That’s pretty conditional on your feelings. Do you regret it or not, Granger? Do you wish it never happened?”

Hermione weighed her options. Did she regret something so incredible, so powerful, so perfect, just because she knew it was wrong?

“I… don’t know,” Hermione responded. Draco sighed.

“I’m in a time-loop,” Draco groaned.

“You said that already,” Hermione noted.

“Then maybe you’re in a time-loop, too,” Draco quipped. Hermione chuckled, then stopped herself. She could admit that Draco was smart, maybe he was sexy, but funny? Never. Except this one time. But other than that, never.

“How about you answer this question instead,” Draco offered. “Was it good?”

Hermione choked. “And, er, by ‘it’ you mean-”

“The sex. The fucking. We fucked. I fucked you.” 

“I get it! Geez!” 

She could barely see Draco lean closer, but she could hear the shift of his clothes, and feel the warmth of his body moving nearer. She could even smell his cologne more strongly and it was rather distracting.

“Was the sex good?” He asked once more.

“Yes,” Hermione admitted, “but I wouldn’t have anything to compare it to.” 

“I mean, you could at least compare it to when you’ve, you know, taken care of yourself.”

“Actually, I can’t.” Hermione blushed.

“Obviously I’m so amazing that it’s impossible to compare, then,” Draco boasted.

“No, not that,” Hermione clarified, “I never, er, I don’t-”

“Don’t play innocent,” Draco accused.

“No, really, a lot of people- a lot of girls don’t… you know, do that.” Hermione felt self-conscious all of a sudden.

“So, last night was the first time you ever orgasmed?” He asked her as if it were the most ridiculous, incredible idea he’d considered.

“Er, yeah, as far as I know,” Hermione answered.

“Holy-” Draco’s voice got very low and very deep suddenly, “Granger, please stop telling me these things.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. 

Draco’s hands fell to either side of her, gripping the shelf behind her. She figured she should be scared, but instead it just reminded her of his body wrapping around hers before and a pleasant tingle danced down her spine.

“If you wish we had never slept together,” he said in a half-whisper, “if you don’t ever want it to happen again, if it was a mistake and we need to put it in the past and ideally never speak of it… leave now. I’ll never tell anyone and we’ll be strangers again.”

_ We could never be strangers _ , Hermione thought. She didn’t move.   
“And if I stay?” She asked.

“We’ll miss dinner and skip straight to dessert.”

Hermione shivered. How did he say stuff like that as if it was just normal small talk?

Draco stepped away, giving her ample room to leave the closet. She stood still, leaning back against the shelves nonchalantly.

Draco locked the door.


	4. Surreptitious

Okay, so maybe some mistakes are worth making twice.

“We didn’t talk at all the last time we were together,” Draco observed, silently casting _ Lumos _to get a bit of light in the room.

“I know,” Hermione remembered, feeling her face get hotter, “it was… kind of nice, actually.”

“Better without my insufferable voice?” Draco mused.

“No- I mean, kind of,” Hermione smirked, “but it wasn’t like that. I liked- it was so- it made it feel-”

“Sexy?” Draco offered, “Forbidden? Clandestine?” He lowered his voice for the last one, “_Dirty_?”

Hermione shivered. “Yes, all of those.”

Draco smiled, more genuine than she’d seen him smile before. “I liked it too. Loved it, actually. Haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

Hermione shuffled her feet, totally unsure how to respond.

“I want to do something different, though.” Draco suddenly got more serious.

“Different?” 

“Let’s talk. Let me talk to you,” Draco requested, looking her up and down voraciously.

“What… what do you want to talk about?” 

“Last night.”

“I mean, that’s what we came in here to do,” Hermione reminded him.

“Yes, but now I want you to touch yourself,” Draco explained. 

Hermione gasped. She had basically no idea how to do that, but if anything would inspire her to try, it would be Malfoy talking like that.

She carefully undid her robe, slipping it off and hanging it on a hook in the closet. Since she was wearing a skirt that day, all she had to do was reach under it and pull her panties aside…

Hermione squirmed a little: it was weird enough to be touching herself at all, something she had rarely tried and never had any success with, but with Draco watching her like a hawk it was awkward to say the least.

“Go ahead,” Draco encouraged.

“I don’t think I know how,” Hermione sheepishly replied.

She heard him step forward, and his hand slid down her arm, meeting her under her skirt. He guided her hands to that spot that made her knees feel weak. She choked out a moan and Draco smiled.

“Better?” He asked, pulling his hand away and leaning back against the opposite wall.

“Yes,” she shuddered.

“Keep going, and I’ll tell you a story,” Draco purred.

“What’s it about?” Hermione asked, trying to sound coy but it came out mostly raspy and breathy.

“It’s about an incredible woman I met a long time ago, but who I recently got to know a lot better.”

Draco paused for a moment and looked her up and down. His body language was, as always, cool and aloof, yet she just barely saw a softness in his eyes.

“I’m going to be completely honest, Granger,” Draco began, “is that alright?”

Hermione nodded.

“I’ve wanted you for a long, long time.” 

She smiled a bit. 

“Obviously, I knew it could never happen,” Draco shrugged, “and I guess I was fine with that.”

His tone got a bit more serious: “Then you came back, after I tried to kiss you.”

Hermione felt her breathing picking up, feeling exposed physically (despite being fully-clothed) and psychologically.

“Truth was, I had no idea if you were interested and I was, as always, ready to accept you wanted nothing to do with me. But as soon as I knew you were a virgin, everything changed. Before I just wanted to fuck you, but when you told me that... that was the moment that I decided to properly ravage you, turn you into a desperate sopping mess, do everything to give you the best time of your life. Before I was going to ask you to want me, but after that, I decided to make you need me.”

_ It worked_, Hermione’s brain immediately responded, and she nearly said it out loud.

“I guess I just got lucky that you came after all,” Draco continued. “Wasn’t until I touched you that I realized just how lucky I was. Snogging is great and all, but when you wait for it as long as I have, it’s a much more… immersive experience, you could say. When I undid your robes and you were wearing some ugly, practical pajama set, I swear I got hard enough to hammer a nail.”

Hermione was confused, and slightly offended on behalf of her pajamas. “How could that be sexy?” She was talking about the pajamas but it applied just as much to the idea of using an erection for construction purposes.

“It’s the fact that the pajamas weren’t sexy that got me going. I wanted you for your prudishness and I got the most domestic, prudish bedclothes imaginable. It was the most honest vision of Hermione Granger. If I wanted some tart in a skimpy nightgown I’d call Pansy. But I wanted to deflower Hogwarts’ rarest gem and look at you now… thoroughly deflowered. I mean, you’re in a potions closet pleasuring yourself because I told you to: shy virgin turned into my own personal whore.”

That word made Hermione shiver. She wanted to hate it and find it degrading, but there was something in it that made her feel amazing simultaneously. She was proud to be giving and receiving so much pleasure, and if that made her a whore, then it was well worth it.

“The first time I made you come was so addictive, I knew instantly I wanted to make you move and moan and cry like that as often as I could find the time for. Your arms tightened around my shoulders, your cunt tightened around my fingers-”

In a moment of impeccable timing, Hermione felt her inner muscles tense with arousal.

“But best of all were those proper unholy moans. So quiet and I could still barely keep it together when I heard them.”

Hermione bit down on her lip, suddenly feeling ironically self-conscious about making any noise. 

“Damn, I need to get you out of these closets and halls and into a bed. Getting a bit sick of not being able to see you or hear you properly,” Draco griped. 

It felt good, masturbating and all, but she knew she had no chance of coming unless Malfoy was involved somehow. The longer it went on, the more desperate she became for him to touch her again.

“Please, Malfoy, I- I need you,” Hermione mewled. 

“Don’t flatter me,” Draco responded coolly, “I’m afraid my ego will grow.”

“Didn’t think it could get much bigger,” Hermione quipped, glancing down at his groin for just a moment. Draco snickered.

“You’re just trying to get me to fuck you.” Draco crossed his arms.

“Is it working?” 

Draco chuckled. “Yes.”

He stepped closer, and just that small action made a surge of arousal pulse through her body.

“What do you want, Granger?” He asked calmly. “And if you say ‘I don’t know’ one more time I might drop dead right here.”

Hermione smiled, trying to hide how nervous the question still made her.

“I… I want you inside me,” she answered quietly.

“Okay, what part of me, specifically?” Draco pressed. Hermione groaned.

“Your- _ unh _\- your cock, Malfoy, please,” she begged, more desperate as she continued to rub herself.

He stepped forward again, just in front of her, and gently moved her hand out from under her skirt. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and licked her wetness off of them, and Hermione whimpered at the sight. 

“You taste lovely as always,” Draco noted as he pushed her back against a shelf and lifted her legs to his hips; she wrapped her arms and legs around him in response. 

He kissed her and Hermione immediately noticed how much slower and calmer this one was than any of the others. He began to kiss down to her neck but stopped to pull her high-neck sweater out of the way. He smiled when he saw there were marks already there.

“Oh, so this wasn’t just a fashion statement?” Draco teased.

“Did you not notice you were practically vampiric last night?” she replied with a tinge of annoyance. 

“I can’t help it, that’s just the effect you have on me,” Draco justified, planting kisses along her jaw and across her ear. He pressed himself closer against her and she felt how hard he was. “That’s another effect you have on me,” he growled. Hermione keened, arching her back and pushing her chest against him.

He reached down and undid his fly, releasing his length which bobbed and brushed against her thigh. In the glow of his _ Lumos _ she was finally able to catch a bit of a glimpse, and she was proud of herself for ever getting it in at all. She was actually pretty glad she didn’t see it before, she certainly would’ve chickened out- hell, even knowing she had already managed it, part of her was thinking _ he wants to do WHAT with that thing?! _

He pushed forward, pressing against her entrance but stopping there.

“Are you ready?” Draco whispered into her ear. Hermione smiled.

“Always,” she answered, deciding it was a sexy thing to say even if it wasn’t really very true.

He forged ahead, and Hermione gasped at the stretch inside her. He kept a consistent and slow pace, giving her some chance to adjust while still moving. 

“More,” Hermione requested without even thinking about it, and Draco growled against her ear as he picked up pace. She was struggling to keep quiet, and he must have sensed it because he pulled her head forward for a deep kiss. She accepted it gladly but leaned forward as he began to pull away. She followed him for a while before falling back and frowning.

“Why are you doing that?” She asked frustratedly.

“Sorry,” Draco smiled, “you just look so beautiful like that, about to kiss me. I wondered if I could preserve the moment.”

Hermione blushed, a little embarrassed but certainly willing to take the compliment. But then Draco thrust harder against her and hit something deep within her and she barely had the strength to stop herself from loudly moaning. He continued to pound against her insides, and she moaned at every contact, even at her best attempts to keep things quiet enough. 

“I’m close,” she whispered to him. 

“I know,” he whispered back, “I want you to come for me.”

She shivered at his encouragement, leaning back against the shelves and riding the waves of pleasure. She felt the pressure building and could even tell she was flexing around Malfoy, who groaned in response. Hearing his breathing quicken sent her there even faster, the idea that she was responsible for his condition making her rather pleased with herself.

Draco threw his head back, lost in pure erotic bliss, and the sight sent Hermione over the edge with a whimper and a deathly-strong grip on the shelf behind her. He slowed to a stop, and even though it was so much less sensation than before, her heightened sensitivity made everything feel more powerful. She shivered as he slid out and pulled her into one last kiss.

“Good?” Draco checked in with a small smile. 

“Yeah,” Hermione confirmed while still panting and catching her breath. 

Draco planted a kiss on her jaw, and another on her cheek for good measure. “I would stay here forever,” he whispered, “if I could. But we should probably make an appearance at dinner.”

Hermione nodded, sliding off the shelf and adjusting her clothes. 

“Should I cast a cleaning charm?” Draco offered, grabbing his wand from where it was balanced on a nearby chest.

“No,” Hermione said as she slipped her robe back on, “I want to stay like this, through dinner.”

Draco’s nostrils flared. “_Oh_, er, okay,” he replied hoarsely, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Hermione smiled: she didn’t get to see him flustered very often.

“I should leave first, and you can come in later. We definitely can’t walk in at the same time, that would be obvious. Maybe just wait, like, ten minutes?” Hermione suggested. Draco’s expression changed but Hermione couldn’t exactly peg it.

“Oh, sure.” Draco nodded and twirled his wand in his fingers. “Maybe I’ll just study these ingredients while I’m in here anyways,” he chuckled softly.

“Good idea,” Hermione smiled back, opening the door carefully and stepping out. She took one last glance and Draco gave her a little wave as she shut the door behind her. 

~

Draco wouldn’t exactly say he was surprised. Of course they couldn’t walk into the Hall together, and he was happy to respect her wishes. It was just that when she said it like _ that _ , things he had been repressing- feelings, desires, insecurities- all came directly to the surface. Draco was normally pretty flawless at compartmentalizing his life. ‘Hypocrisy’ was just a nine-letter word to him for most of his life; He had used Occlumency and his inherited emotional repression to keep parts of his life separate from each other, even his own actions. He had been trying to work on that, once he realized the role his negative psychological habits played in the worst things he had done. But even with his attempts at self-improvement, he hadn’t noticed that he had been lying to himself, a lot, about his intentions with Granger. For the most part, it was lying by omission as he hadn’t even taken time to think about what he really wanted. Once he noticed that he didn’t just want sex, but a real, domestic, even _ wholesome _relationship with Granger, it was sort of obvious. They weren’t at that place yet, but wouldn’t it be nice to just walk into the Great Hall, holding hands and laughing together, and not consider what everyone else would think? Sure, his friends would never touch him again, and at this point Draco figured that a completely worthy sacrifice. Blaise knew Draco well and could be a lot of fun, but he was pretty much always talking about sex and it got gross after a while. Theo used to be someone Draco felt like he could tell anything, then he started going with Pansy and it was like losing two friends at once. Pansy herself, of course, was beyond explanation. Draco almost admired her wild ruthlessness- she was the better Slytherin than him certainly, truly willing to do anything to have her way. If Draco operated like Pansy, simply taking whatever he wanted by any means necessary with a complete lack of shame, he at least probably wouldn’t be stuck in a closet waiting ten minutes with absolutely nothing to do just to avoid being seen with someone who he wanted more than anything to want to be seen with him. Obviously, Draco knew that Granger wanting to be seen with him was a lofty goal. He absent-mindedly rubbed his arm, and felt the slightest sting when he pushed his sleeve into the Mark. Even though he always wore long sleeves to conceal it, he knew it was there, as did most others. It served as a constant reminder, to him and everyone else, that he was unforgivable. It sent him messages sometimes: some memories, some original material. On really bad days, he wasn’t sure which was which, unable to remember what he had done. On really, really bad days, he wasn’t sure if it was just a vision or if he was really back in the middle of the war.

Draco had been clenching a fist, and only noticed when he felt a sharp pain in his palm. He opened it to see he had cut himself with his fingernails. It took him out of the memories, but it reminded him he had no right to feel sorry for himself. _ Unforgivable,_ the Mark whispered through his mind. Maybe this latest adventure in self-destruction was bound to end sometime, but until then, Draco figured seeing it through couldn’t fuck him up much more than he already was.

Deciding enough time had passed, he reached for the doorknob, but found it turning just before he touched it. He jumped back, scrambling to find a plan but realizing he had no options. Light flooded into the closet as the door opened, and Draco gaped when he saw Pansy and Theo standing in front of him.

“Draco?!” They shouted in unison.

“Hi,” Draco replied with a nervous smile.

“What are you doing in here?” Theo asked incredulously.

“I… could ask you two the same thing,” Draco faltered, crossing his arms in a faux display of confidence.

Theo cleared his throat nervously, and Pansy smiled in that way that made you instantly worried of what she was about to do.

“Theo and I were just coming by to… peruse some potion ingredients,” she coyly answered, giggling a bit to herself. 

Draco furrowed his brow. Since when did Pansy play shy? 

“Right, well, I’ll get out of your way then,” Draco announced, stepping out of the closet and between the two of them. He dashed away, hoping if he left fast enough they wouldn’t notice that he never explained why he was casually chilling in a closet.

~

_ Where seven is made from one, one, two and three _

_ When the oppression of darkness sets sinners free _

_ Meet me under the tallest, greenest tree _

_ And I’ll take you somewhere that is everywhere, but most will never see. _

Hermione examined the note thoroughly, turning it over front and back as if the other side of the parchment would bring an obvious explanation. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Lavender asked playfully. Hermione shoved the note into her pocket.

“Oh, nothing,” Hermione unconvincingly answered as she turned back to face the rest of the dormitory.

“I was here when the note came in, silly. Charmed paper bird, it flew in and landed on your bed before you came back.” Lavender was batting her eyelashes, clearly already sure that it came from a secret admirer.

“I’m surprised you didn’t read it already,” Hermione deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

“I would never!” Lavender guffawed. 

“And it bites,” Parvati smirked. Lavender shot a frown back. “Guess whoever sent it wanted to be really sure only you would read it,” she continued.

“It’s not that exciting, really,” Hermione explained, “just a note from a friend.”

“_Friend_, right,” Fay sarcastically concurred. “Listen, I have friends and if they want to tell me something they just come by and tell me.”

“Well, maybe this is a particularly creative friend. Or busy one,” Hermione suggested, hoping to draw attention away from herself by opening a book. Although it seemed to work, since the girls’ conversation drifted to some drama between two Ravenclaw girls who found out they were dating the same bloke, it didn’t help her figure out the riddle. She had her suspicions about who it was from, obviously, but she wasn’t sure if she believed Malfoy was the type to send cryptic love letters-

She stopped that train of thought. Love letter is a strong word. Love is a strong word. It was just a poem, an invitation worded such that only she could figure it out, just in case someone else were to find it. She figured she could crack it, the concern was simply time. The first thing she figured out was the second line: she knew it had to be referring to night, and since it didn’t specify anything more particular than that, it must have been referring to tonight. If she didn’t know where to go within a few hours, since everyone was already winding down for bed, she would miss out on this mysterious place that apparently is everywhere, whatever that meant.

Thankfully, Fate stepped in and helped Hermione speed up her solve just by listening in on the conversation.

“I heard they found out at a Quidditch match, when they happened to sit next to each other and found themselves cheering on the same player a little too emphatically,” Fay dished to the other girls.

Hermione smiled, the poem suddenly making sense. After she finished her bedtime preparations, she slipped under the covers and waited for everyone else to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your continued readership! For the first time I have an ending in sight, so stay tuned for major plot developments.  
As for the beginning of this chapter, specifically the smutty part, for those who think it’s unrealistic that a man would know more than a woman about her own sexual anatomy: yes it is rare but definitely possible. Draco is a slut and Hermy’s got a lot of sexual repression going on, at least this version of the character does/did. I’ve met a lot of women who didn’t masturbate or couldn’t make themselves orgasm, lots weren’t even sure about where their clitoris was. Sadly I haven’t been giving any of these women closet lessons on the subject but hey, it could happen.


	5. Inevitable

Hermione used a few charms to make sure she wasn’t spotted on her way through the castle: quieter footsteps and a faster walking speed, to start. Once she was outside she found herself running directly to the Quidditch pitch.  _ Where seven is made from one, one, two and three _ only made sense when the girls talked about Quidditch: technically, that’s always true, but since Quidditch has three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper and one Seeker...

She glanced at the note again:  _ The tallest, greenest tree _ . No trees on the pitch of course, but there were stands decorated in Slytherin colors, which were tall and green and even made of wood like a tree. She wasn’t sure which one specifically he referred to, but her first guess was the one that housed the changing rooms and team preparation area, and lo and behold, as she carefully stepped in, there was Draco, admiring some championship pictures on the wall.

“I figured it was you, but I was a bit nervous anyways,” Hermione greeted as she glanced around the room.

“I was nervous you wouldn’t come, or wouldn’t figure it out- although of course that was a distantly secondary concern,” Draco answered as he turned around, striding towards her. She somewhat expected to be pulled into a kiss but instead he simply embraced her, and she wasn’t really sure how to react to a hug. She didn’t mind, though: she leaned her head against his chest and noticed he smelled like soap and allspice.

“I’ll be honest, it wasn’t easy. And I actually still don’t know what the last line is supposed to mean,” Hermione admitted. 

“Oh, you mean the part about where I’m taking you?” Draco remembered.

“I assume it’s a sexual metaphor,” Hermione theorized.

“Not a bad idea,” Draco smirked, “but no, that’s not what it means.” His expression suddenly got more serious, more concerned. “Is… is it okay that it isn’t? About sex, I mean?”

“I’ll survive somehow,” she quipped, noticing he didn’t seem to entirely relax after that answer. She was honestly a bit surprised, though. It was hard enough to justify her double life, switching between turning off the part of her brain that hated him during sex and turning off the part of her brain that longed for him during the remaining 23 hours of the day. Now there was this third version of Malfoy joining the terrible one and the sexy one: the regular one, the- dare she say it?-  _ kind  _ one. A boy who loves flying, a boy taking a girl out on… was this a date?

He reached his arm out and a broom flew and jumped right into his hand from off the wall. She decided not to react to how sexy wordless magic was. 

“The line is about the sky, Granger. I wanted to take you flying.”

Hermione felt like her eyes were bulging directly out of her skull. 

“Flying? What if I-” Hermione began.

“You won’t fall, or hurt yourself,” Draco answered before she asked.

“How do you know?” she questioned.

“Because you’ll be with me,” he assured.

She smiled a bit at that, unable to hide that she was impressed by his flying skills. She never went to many Quidditch games, and they had become increasingly rare as tensions around Hogwarts grew. The pitch was rebuilt in time for the repeat year, but there wasn’t a strong enough student body to justify the cost of activities, so it sat all but abandoned. She remembered from before, though, that he had always been a talented Seeker.

“Alright so I won’t fall, but will I enjoy myself?” Hermione continued.

“You’ll be with me,” Draco repeated. “Seriously, though, there’s nothing like flying. You should experience it.”

“I’ve flown before,” Hermione remembered, swallowing dryly, “in the Room of Requirement.”

Draco shuffled awkwardly. “Yeah, well, that was different. You should fly outside, in nature, not over a flaming pile of rubbish.”

“I’ve flown outside, too,” Hermione smiled, “on the back of a dragon.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

“A story for another time,” she offered.

“Okay, so you have more flying experience than I thought,” Draco submitted, “but now’s your chance to fly on  _ this  _ dragon’s back,” he motioned to himself, “and I personally suggest you take it.”

Hermione shifted nervously, and Draco stepped closer.

“You’re not afraid are you?” He teased. His question from that first day when everything changed,  _ are you scared of me? _ , rang in her head. “You really should’ve been a Ravenclaw, because I don’t know a Gryffindor who would shy away from a simple broom.”

“Fine,” she huffed, stepping forward and grabbing the broom from his hands, marching outside to the pitch. 

“You are a Gryffindor, of course,” Draco chuckled as he followed her out, “a Gryffindor never backs down from a dare.”

As he passed her, he grabbed the broom back and let it float expectantly over the dewy grass.

“Front or back?” He offered, gesturing to the handle- or seat, depending on your point of view.

“Don’t you have to go in front so you can steer?” Hermione asked.

“I can direct you from behind,” Draco shrugged, and Hermione decided not to touch on the double entendre.

“Not that I don’t trust you or anything, but I think I’ll just take the back,” Hermione decided, and he nodded and stepped on. She hesitated for a moment.   
“Well, care to join me, Granger?” He encouraged, glancing at the spot behind him. She took a deep breath and stepped on. She wrapped her arms around him and found it to be weirdly intimate, even though they had obviously already crossed plenty of the lines of intimacy.

“Hold me tighter, or you’ll fall right off,” Draco commanded, and she gripped at his torso with more of her strength. “Ready?”

“Draco-” she blurted out, “I’m scared.”

He turned his head as far back as he could to look at her, smiling.  “You’ve done it before! How bad could it be?” 

“It’s different now,” Hermione explained, “I only did it when I had to, I didn’t really have time to think about it. That made it easier.”

“So, you’re scared of flying because you’re  _ not  _ about to die?” Draco asked incredulously.

“I-” Hermione began to justify, but sighed and gave up: “Yeah, essentially.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Draco conceded with a shrug. “I still get scared, if I go high enough. We’ll take it slow,” he comforted.

“Alright,” Hermione cautiously agreed.

“Three…” Draco began, and Hermione tightened her grip around him. Instantly he took off, without finishing the countdown. Hermione yelped but soon began laughing. The wind was so strong in her face she wondered how Draco was able to properly keep his eyes open. After a few seconds of going seemingly directly, vertically upwards, Draco pointed the broomstick down a bit and they steadied to a reasonable height.

“The Forbidden Forest is that way,” Draco pointed, and Hermione desperately wished he wouldn’t take his hands off the broom. “But back there,” he pointed another direction, “is the rest of the grounds and the Great Lake. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not even ready to look down, so it doesn’t really matter what we’re flying over,” Hermione replied.

“I’ll take us higher,” Draco said, as if he hadn’t even noticed that she said she was already too scared to look down. Hermione buried her face into the back of his jacket, feeling the rush of being pulled even further upwards. She heard Draco laughing, clearly having fun, and she smiled despite her fear. She felt them slow down to a near stop, and she cautiously opened her eyes.

She gasped: as far as she could see was untouched nature, everything washed in dark blue under the moonlight. The lake, much closer now, looked like it was sparkling. 

“Beautiful, right?” Draco quietly observed, and she wasn’t even sure it was question.  “Now look down,” Draco instructed. Hermione gawked.

“I’ll probably pass out from fear if I do that!” she squeaked.

“I’ll catch you, then,” Draco smiled. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

Hermione sighed and slowly looked down. It did make her a bit light-headed at first, but then she understood why he wanted her to do it.

“Everything’s so… small,” she whispered reverently. The pitch looked like a toy, the castle a dollhouse. 

“That’s why I love it out here,” Draco explained. “I mean, I’m not complaining about the fresh air or the views, by any means. But I like to remember how tiny everything is, once you get far enough away from it. Maybe if you go far enough away, it won’t even matter at all…”

She swallowed, not sure if he was really talking about Hogwarts anymore. She had worried before, too, that everything would always feel like it mattered just as much as the day it happened. She wrote to Harry about it, he told her that Auror training was hard for him at times, when he forgot it wasn’t war. She told him that wasn’t exclusive to Auror training: all she was doing was taking classes and she still woke up feeling sick and confused and unsure where she was at times. All she wanted was for there to be less hatred and anger in the world, but she wondered if it just changed shape rather than amount.

They flew around for a while, most of the time going slow, almost like taking a stroll through the sky. They didn’t say much, one brief conversation about Advanced Potions and a few other classes they had separately, but not much needed to be said. The air was a bit cold, and when Draco turned back to talk to her, she could see his cheeks and nose growing pink from the temperature. 

“Would you like to go down?” He asked after a while of observing the scenery, but smirked at the wording. “Back to the ground, I mean.”

“Sure,” Hermione agreed, and he took them down at a faster, yet still at a slightly more conservative pace.

As they approached the ground, she realized she was tucking her legs under the broom, apparently afraid of smashing her feet onto the ground. As he came to a stop just above the grass, she delicately hopped off of one side. He disembarked and let the broom drop to the ground.

“Worth it?” Draco asked softly.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied with a heavy breath. She felt oddly jittery, like a first date or a pop quiz.

“I won’t keep you long, we should both get back to bed soon,” Draco stepped forward, “but I’m glad I got to see you tonight.”

“Me too,” Hermione smiled back at him.

He leaned in and she was more surprised than seemed justifiable. She accepted the kiss, though, and it was so soft and delicate- not quite the tongue-crashing, tonsil-diving, lip-biting snog she’d grown accustomed to. There was still a passion behind it, but controlled and appreciative. If the other kisses were tearing into a steak with your teeth, this one was eating sorbet with a teaspoon.

When he pulled back she found herself leaning forward for more, but stopped herself and stepped back.

“I’ll stay back and make sure this broom ends up in the same place I found it. Goodnight, Granger,” he said quietly.

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” she replied, stepping delicately back and beginning a dazed walk back to her bed.

How was it that Hermione never knew what to expect when it came from Draco Malfoy?

\---

Hermione was changing out of her pajamas and into her uniform the next morning when she heard a voice behind her.

“I knew it!” Parvati exclaimed and Hermione whipped around, instinctively covering her chest even though she was still wearing a bra.

“You- what?” Hermione asked hurriedly, beginning to pull her shirt back over her head.

“No, too late for that, I’ve already seen them,” Parvati smirked.

“ _ What _ ?!” Hermione snapped, covering her chest even more thoroughly.

Parvati laughed. “No, not  _ those _ , I mean your love bites.”

“My what?” Hermione reached up to her neck and covered it with her hands. Lavender turned the corner and looked at her with a gleam in her eye.

“Hermione’s coated in hickeys, she looks like her neck got hit by a tiny but persistent bludger,” Parvati informed Lavender.

“I knew it,” Lavender smiled.

“That’s what I said!” Parvati rejoiced.

“What’s going on?” Fay asked as she joined the girls. Hermione rolled her eyes. Why was the entire dormitory having a convention while she was trying to change?

“You know how Lavender was sure Hermione had a secret boyfriend?” Parvati turned to Fay.

“What?!” Hermione asked for the fourth time in a minute.

“Don’t play dumb, Hermione, you’re too smart for it to work,” Lavender chimed in.   
“Well, thank you,” Hermione shakily accepted the compliment.

“Hickeys, sneaking off all the time, acting distracted,” Fay enumerated, “you even got a secret letter last night! Do you really think we’re that dumb?”

“I-” Hermione began to apologize.

“So, who is it?” Lavender interrogated.

“I’m officially putting in my bet on McLaggen,” Parvati announced.

“He’s much too rude,” Hermione blurted out.

“That can be a bit exciting, can’t it? Brash, brave, takes what he wants when he wants it,” Lavender fantasized.

“As if,” Hermione grumbled.

“Longbottom, then?” Fay offered.

“He’s with Luna!” Hermione protested.

“Maybe she’s into it,” Parvati considered with a quirked eyebrow, “sort of a throuple thing.”

“...throuple?!” Hermione spluttered.

“Quit exaggerating, or I’ll tell everyone how much of a  _ Perv _ ati you really are,” Fay playfully threatened.

“Let her talk, we have to know who it is!” Lavender demanded.

The three stared at her expectantly, but all she did was stare back at them.

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll just find out,” Parvati pointed out. Hermione sighed.

“I’m just not ready to talk about it right now,” Hermione stalled, “I’ll tell you another time.”

“Whatever,” Lavender groaned dramatically as she walked away. Parvati followed her, but Fay lingered for just another moment.

“Be careful,” Fay warned, and she finally returned to her own bed.

Hermione sighed with relief. Of course, she knew she had no intention of telling them the truth, as Fay seemed to suspect, but she could at least keep them off her trail for a while.

Breakfast the next day was quite awkward when all the girls essentially ignored her, only interested in talking if she was going to dish on her mystery guy. They had never been close or anything, but it was quickly on a downward spiral. She avoided looking at Draco lest they suspect him as her lover, yet she wondered if they would ever in a million years suspect him since he was the last person she herself expected to be involved with at any point in her life.

She did find a way to get his attention as he was about to leave, though, and she knew he would wait for her in the nearest private place. She left shortly afterwards, dashing to a secluded corner as soon as she was out of sight. Draco was waiting there, reading a book.

“Hey,” she whispered, joining him in the corner. He smiled and put his book away.

“Good morning,” he replied. 

“Listen, I was thinking-” Hermione began.

“Love when you do that,” Draco interjected.

“We need to be more careful.”

Draco’s smile dropped a bit. “Did I hurt you, or something?” He asked worriedly.

“No, no,” Hermione soothed, “it’s just- the girls are getting suspicious.”

Draco furrowed his brow.

“They know I’m seeing someone,” she continued, “and if they find out it’s you, which I think they will since they basically threatened to stalk me…” she trailed off.

“So, you’re asking me too…?” Draco prompted.

“Last night was amazing, and I wanted to thank you for taking me,” Hermione smiled at the memory, “but I’m just not sure we can afford it.”

“Afford it?” Draco repeated.

“I mean, I think it might be a bit too obvious,” Hermione explained.

“Obvious?” Draco repeated, again. Hermione sighed with a tinge of frustration.

“We just have to be more… judicious,” she suggested. “I don’t want this to end,” she began, and Draco smiled in response, “but if anyone finds out about it, it’ll have to end,” and he frowned again, “so I just want us to be especially diligent.”

Draco was quiet for a little too long.

“Nobody can find out,” Draco seemed to note to himself, “got it.”

“You agree, don’t you?” she confirmed, looking to his eyes for the confidence she expected. She was sure he would agree entirely.  _ If anyone knew I was shagging you, I’d be kicked out of my house- Slytherin  _ and  _ the Manor _ , the version of Draco in her mind had replied when she ran this conversation in her imagination. And yet, she had imagined another version of the conversation too, where he said  _ I want everyone to know, be my girlfriend _ . She forced that out of her mind, convinced it could never happen.

Instead of either of those, he simply replied with a half-hearted “yeah.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll see you tonight,” Hermione said with a smile, beginning to walk away.

“I can’t,” Draco murmured, and she stopped and turned back mid-step.

“Hm?” She leaned in.

“I can’t. See you tonight, I mean,” he said again.

“Are you busy?” Hermione asked, although she regretted it instantly, wishing she had just walked away and not seemed so needy.

“Not really,” he explained, “just need to catch up on sleep.”

Hermione looked at the ground. She waited to respond until she was sure she wouldn’t sound hurt or disappointed.

“Oh, right. Another time, then,” she mumbled quickly and continued to walk away.

~

Draco pulled the book back out of his robes as she left, examining the cover.  _ Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches _ , it said in glistening golden letters. He scoffed, shoving it back in his robe: the whole thing was rubbish anyways, and a bit sexist. He’d picked up a book of poetry as well, even ordered a Muggle one that he heard was the most romantic collection of poems available. It’s not that he thought he could actually use books to figure out how to get Granger to stick around, but it must have given him some sense of control. He’d never needed a book to get a witch in bed… did they even make books to get her out of bed and actually wanting anything to do with you? He thought taking her flying was surely a promising start, and it had gone so well: she had even called him Draco and it made his heart feel like it was going to flip inside out, in a good way (if that’s possible). But then, what went wrong? It was like one step forward followed by two steps back. Draco wanted to reach for her, ask her why, tell her how he felt, but his instincts had kicked in and he pushed her away instead, deciding it was best to stop pursuing what she obviously didn’t want. 

Of course, he knew what was  _ actually _ best was to be honest and break it off, tell her that he couldn’t keep sleeping with her without falling in love with her, and that the only thing worse than sleeping with her would be falling in love with her. Obviously he lacked the self-control for that, though. All he could do now was delay the inevitable.


	6. Exposed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in, y'all. Second to last chapter means Peak Angst- but don't worry, we're starting off with something a bit easier to swallow.

Draco pushed her against the wall, beginning a targeted campaign on her neck already. She moaned, grabbing at his hair. 

“Missed you,” he whispered against her collarbones, and she smiled at the honesty. He was already unbuttoning her shirt, and following the exposed skin down as soon as it was revealed. 

It turns out neither of them lasted very long in their “look how cool and aloof I am” contest: after a few days of both playing hard to get, they had finally swallowed some pride and conveniently stumbled upon the Room of Requirement. It had taken the relatively simple shape of a bedroom, which even came with its own loo and closet. Hermione had wondered at first if this was sort of a catch-all room that could serve a number of different needs, but she hadn’t spent long on that thought before Draco was basically climbing all over her.

They were undressing each other like they couldn’t get it done fast enough, and Draco had taken a significant lead, getting Hermione down to just her knickers when he still had most of his suit on. He suddenly stepped back when she began to reach for his shirt buttons. He started to take his trousers off, and Hermione crossed her arms indignantly.

“Take your shirt off first,” she demanded. He suddenly seemed uncomfortable. 

“I’d… rather leave it on,” he requested.

“I want to see you, you’ve always been fully clothed- it’s not fair at all,” she explained.

He silently began to undo his buttons and she stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the now-bare strip of skin. He looked down at her as he folded the shirt back, and she examined his chest. There were scars, most of them faint, but she could tell: he was so pale, and yet there were stripes of even whiter skin, and she watched as they shifted when he breathed or moved.

_ "Sectumsempra _ ?” She asked, touching one lightly.

“Most of them,” Draco answered with a clenched jaw. “Can we not talk about this now?” 

She nodded in agreement, pulling him close again, but she noticed he waited to finish removing the shirt until her eyes were closed, she noticed that he wrapped his arms around her so she couldn’t see his forearm…

Of course she knew it was there, he was deluding himself if he thought she could forget, but it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. The Dark Mark itself was essentially harmless at this point, just a symbol without a meaning. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure where Draco stood on everything now, but clearly he wasn’t entirely on board with the original intention, considering the circumstances. She tried not to think about that, it never made anything easier. And she couldn’t judge him for trying to hide it anyways, since she had a glamour in the same place he had the Mark, covering Bellatrix’s “mudblood” carving. 

He walked her backwards into the bed, still holding her tightly and kissing her so desperately you’d think her mouth was a cure to some terminal disease he had. He moved down to her neck and she couldn’t fight the moan that forced its way out of her lips.

“Love hearing you, properly,” Draco praised against her skin as he pulled her knickers off and tossed them to the side of the room. “Moan for me again,” he requested.

“Make me,” she laughed in return. He growled at that, biting down on her neck and making her gasp. 

Don’t get it twisted, Hermione was always a fan of the foreplay, of getting fingered and eaten out and otherwise made to be a whimpering mess, but she was quite pleased when he unceremoniously put her legs on his shoulders and plunged himself into her. She made the most outrageous sound, something she probably would’ve found ridiculous and overacted were she to see it in an erotic film, yet it was entirely genuine: the angle made his length even more punishing and sent him so deep inside her she was at risk of permanent organ rearrangement. 

“Oh god, Malfoy, oh fuck,” Hermione chanted, noticing the way she said “god” and “Malfoy” made the terms feel interchangeable. 

He wrapped himself around her, his arms pulling her closer, and she felt so small in his grasp, completely pliable to his strength- it made her head spin, it made her heart race, it made… well we’ll just say it had an impact on most of her body.

Draco’s head fell against her but his torso stayed taut, and she figured this must be physically exhausting, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hair fell down, tickling her chest: she had noticed before he didn’t charm his hair to stay slicked back, and she preferred it this way, it made him seem more relaxed and natural. Plus, he looked so wonderful with the loose strands of white hair clinging to his face and neck. 

The pressure was building inside her and she could tell her moans were getting more ridiculously loud and exaggerated, although she certainly wasn’t exaggerating them. Her ability to form words seemed to completely disappear, and all that was left was animalistic moans and sobs and screams and-

Draco suddenly dropped her hips and pulled out from her, running away into the loo. It all happened so fast that she was registering his absence at the same time she heard him sobbing in the bathroom. She jumped up, slipping his shirt on to cover herself and dashing in after him.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” She asked delicately, stepping closer but wanting to give him space.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered between sobs, covering his face while he crouched on the floor.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Hermione said instinctively

“There is so much to be sorry for,” Draco denied. “You were- you were screaming,” he tried to explain.

“Yes, but it was good screaming, really good,” she replied with a bit of a blush coming to her face.

“I know, but it reminded me-” Draco stuttered, his sobs making his words somewhat difficult to understand, “the Manor, I could hear you. It was the worst thing I ever heard. And just now, it sounded similar-”

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione threw herself into his arms, finding tears welling in her own eyes. 

“Don’t- it’s not your fault. Never apologize to me,” Draco pleaded. “I should’ve saved you, I should’ve protected you-”

“You couldn’t, it’s over now, I’m okay now,” Hermione chanted through her own tears, and it wasn’t entirely clear if she was speaking more to him or to herself.

His hands gripped at the shirt on her back, pulling her closer, and they held each other for a long time, and the crying slowed to shaky breathing, which eventually calmed to a stillness.

“I forgive you, Draco,” Hermione whispered against his skin. “I forgave you a long time ago, before I even knew you were sorry.”

“I don’t deserve it,” he replied, shaking his head.

“I didn’t do it because you deserved it,” Hermione explained, sitting up a bit so she could look at his face, pushing a strand of silvery white hair away from his face. “I forgave you for myself, because I needed to move on.”

Draco’s expression was some mixture of awe, confusion, and- she would call it love, if she didn’t know better. He reached behind her neck and she leaned forward, slowly and delicately kissing him. It was sensual in a way she wasn’t used to: instead of making her feel that gut-wrenching need she usually felt when he kissed her, she felt warm, it felt familiar. Kissing him felt like cuddling up by a fire with a leather-bound book and a cup of cocoa. His other hand grabbed her own, interlacing between her fingers, and she wasn’t sure if they had ever held hands before. He moaned, just slightly, against her lips, inspiring her to move her leg over his waist to straddle him. He moved his hands down and wrapped tightly around her waist, which gave the leverage to pick her up, shakily standing with her clinging to his torso. He walked them to the bed, laid her back down, all without breaking the kiss. Slowly he re-entered her, both of them gasping and grabbing onto each other tighter. 

Hermione learned that day what people were talking about when they said “making love.” She learned that sex could be just as perfect without being wanton, wild, dirty. She learned that something so powerful could make you lose all sense of time and space, make you feel like you’re floating on a river of satin. She learned that an orgasm which comes only from slow, deliberate motion and announces itself not with screams but with silence can be just as, if not more, incredible than what she had grown accustomed to.

She also learned something much scarier: she was falling in love with Draco Malfoy, and she wasn’t even that mad about it.

~

Draco had never had to fight so hard to stop from smiling all day. “I forgive you.” Was there anything more incredible to hear than that? His brain had gone silent when she said it: no memories, no Mark… quiet, for the first time in so long. It was like breathing with full lungs, seeing with clear eyes, after years of being blinded and strangled. He almost didn’t know who he was without the pain, without the hurt. But he found out quickly, because all he wanted to do was hold her closer. And the sex… he had never done anything like that before, and that wasn’t something he could say about a lot of sexual activities. It wasn’t an activity really, it was something else entirely. Comparing that experience to your average sexual encounter was like comparing a pond to an ocean. It overwhelmed him, completely overpowered his senses and thoughts. 

“Draco!” A voice rudely interrupted the memory, and he turned to see Theo approaching him. 

“Shouldn’t you be across the grounds, for Herbology?” Draco remembered.

“Skipping,” Theo shrugged. “You see,” he smiled devilishly, “I was exploring the castle earlier. Didn’t feel like doing much. Saw some interesting things,” he casually listed.

Draco frowned. “Good for you…?” He replied flippantly.

“Saw Hermione Granger leaving the Room of Requirement,” Theo explained further, a gleam glittering in his eye. Draco didn’t say anything. “I wonder what she was doing in there- or  _ who  _ she was doing.”

“Bit of a leap in logic there, Nott,” Draco chided, hoping to hide his nervousness.

“She definitely had that post-sex glow,” Theo shrugged. Draco grimaced.

“Why are you telling me this?” Draco asked, feigning disgust.

“Just thought you’d find it interesting,” Theo offered.

Draco didn’t say anything, but silently resolved to find Granger and warn her the next chance he got.  Thankfully, after his next class, he crossed her in the hall and pulled her to the side where most could see, but few would look.

“We can’t talk here,” Hermione whispered fervently.

“Theo’s onto us,” Draco stated plainly, ignoring her desire for privacy.

Hermione sighed, chewing on her lip in mild distress as she thought.

“What do we do?” She asked him, and as she looked up at him, he felt his self-control weaken.

“Come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend,” he blurted out.

“What?” She spluttered. “I- I can’t,” she said quickly, like it was instinctive.

“Why not?” Draco pressed.

“I don’t think the world is ready,” Hermione explained.

“Who cares what they think?” Draco scoffed.

“Then I don’t think I’m ready,” Hermione continued.

“You said you were always ready,” Draco pointed out.

“I wasn’t being literal,” Hermione deflected. 

Draco suddenly reached for her hand, and she seemed surprised but didn’t pull away.

“Say you’ll consider it,” he implored, “I need to know if you want more from this, because we can’t hide forever... and I honestly don’t want to.”

She looked at the ground.

“Granger, I think this has gone on much too long to act like you’re surprised that I’m falling in-”

“Don’t say it,” Hermione pleaded, looking up at him with those eyes that made thinking so hard.

“I can wait on an answer, but I can’t wait forever,” Draco said quietly.

Hermione nodded curtly and stepped away, her hand slipping from his grasp. She walked down the hall and Draco shook his head, once again entirely lost in this woman and her damn indecision.

As he turned to leave, he saw Theo leaning against the wall across the courtyard, just staring and smiling. 

\---

Draco was lying on his bed in the dorm, thankful that no one else was going to be back for a while since he was in the middle of class period. It was so loud most of the time that he couldn’t think, but now that he had peace and quiet, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to think. Thinking meant thinking about Granger, and thinking about Granger meant being giddy, depressed, and horny all at once. Wonderful memories of her always ended with memories of rejection, confusion, hurt. Yet, the bad memories always came with beautiful ones, too. And when it came to “bad memories” feeling unwanted was nothing compared to feeling truly horrible, despicably evil. She had said she forgave him, but she was just one, and there were so many who would never see him as anything else, and so many more who weren’t even in a position to consider forgiveness because they were dead.  _ All your fault _ , the Mark whispered. It was getting louder, it usually did when he got scared or anxious or sad.  _ You killed them and you deserve to die because it’s all your- _

The voices were interrupted by the door opening. Draco shot up, jumping out of bed and standing to see who was entering. Expecting another resident of the dorm to enter, he was surprised to see Pansy.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Pansy said sweetly. Draco just stared back, scared of what she would say now that she had almost certainly been told by Theo about his affair with Granger. She silently crossed the room to approach him, and leaned in against him.

“I’ve missed you, Draco,” Pansy whispered, practically moaning it into his ear.   
“Don’t even try it, Pans, you’re wasting your time,” Draco groaned. 

“Oh, you’re all head-over-heels for your Mudblood squeeze, then?” Pansy crossed her arms, her face making that horrid frown that made her look like she was going to be sick.

“You’d best learn to keep your damn mouth shut, Pansy,” Draco’s voice was low, his jaw clenched, “And to stop calling people that. Yes, she’s muggle-born, and she’s twice the woman- and witch- that you’ll ever be.” 

He expected her to become furious at that comment, maybe even take a swing at him. Instead, she made a playful pouty face.

“Aw, Dray, you’re so mean,” she giggled. “But I can handle it. Not sure I could take seven straight years of your torment, though. I’d never want to touch you if you were that awful to  _ me _ .”

Draco winced. It was never easy to remember that part… even before this whole affair had begun.

“What kind of girl would want to be with you after that?” Pansy continued, “She must be some unstoppable, self-hating giga-slut.” 

Draco didn’t even think, instantly grabbing Pansy by the arms and shoving her against the wall. Her head popped against the stone rather loudly, but she didn’t even show the pain: she just laughed and moaned like it was the sexiest thing that ever happened to her.

“You’re so worked up, she must be a real catch,” Pansy smiled, reaching up into her hair and twirling some locks between her fingers. She suddenly looked Draco in the eyes, her expression getting more serious. “Be honest, though: is she really better than me?” 

“She wipes the floor with you, dear. And you’d better get the hell out of here, because if she finds out you were coming on to me, she will literally wipe the floor with you.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure of that,” Pansy sighed. “Seems like she isn’t too possessive of you if she is just worried about keeping you a dirty little secret.”

Draco looked away. Pansy wasn’t exactly a genius, but when it came to gossip, she knew it before it was even spoken. And especially when it came to Draco, she always found some way to dig her nose into his business.

“Sorry to break it to you, doll,” Pansy continued, placing a hand on his shoulder, “but she just wanted you for the sex!”

“That’s not true,” Draco replied, but he could tell she sensed the waver in his voice. He had convinced himself before that wasn’t true, but at the moment he couldn’t remember how…

“Well, what is it then? Why would she want you?” Pansy mused, “Perhaps your wonderful personality? No, wait, not that, you’re her worst enemy and nobody really likes you…” Pansy put a finger to the corner of her mouth, pretending to think harder. “Maybe your prestigious reputation? Oh, I forgot, that went out the window and you’re basically a social pariah…”

“Stop,” Draco pleaded.

“Still got any money left? Guess she could be after that,” Pansy continued.

“I get it,” Draco demanded, tightening his grip on her arms. Pansy looked at him again, and he looked back.

“I’m sorry, sweetie, you’ll get over her soon.” Pansy made the most unbelievable attempt at an empathetic expression. “Couldn’t be that hard. I mean, virgins are fun to take for a spin, but you know nobody knows you better than I do.” 

Draco looked at her, examining her face. Of course she was manipulating him, right? But she had been one of his closest friends for so long, maybe she was just looking out for him.

“And you know nobody else would do anything for you,” Pansy added, licking her lips. She was definitely right about that: Pansy had always been adventurous, letting Draco try all sorts of depraved things.

“You’re biting your lip,” Pansy observed with a raised eyebrow. Draco immediately stopped, not even realizing he had been caught up in remembering their more exotic trysts.

“Let me remind you how good we were together,” Pansy said with a smile as she began to lower herself down against the wall. Draco didn’t realize what she meant until she reached for his fly.

“Pansy, don’t,” Draco quietly replied.

“I know what you like, I can do things she can’t,” Pansy whispered, working his trousers open.

“I don’t- we can’t- I-” Draco stuttered.

“Shh,” Pansy soothed, pulling his half-hard member out of his underclothes.

“Pansy, wait-” Draco pleaded, closing his eyes and looking away. He knew she wouldn’t stop, though: he felt her mouth wrap around him and he inhaled sharply through his teeth. Instantly she pressed her tongue against that sensitive spot just under the head and he gasped. He could feel her smile ever so slightly around him, and he internally acknowledged that she was impressive in her technique, as he had expected since they were together so long. And she certainly had enthusiasm, an undeniable and unabated interest in Draco, something he certainly couldn’t say about Hermione for most of the time he’d known her. He felt himself getting harder under her oral guidance, and she moaned against him encouragingly. Getting back together with Pansy was the last thing Draco wanted to happen this year, but it made more sense than him and Hermione, didn’t it? Giving up on your greatest dream and falling back on your safe bet feels disappointing, yet it’s kind of a relief. With Pansy, Draco wasn’t worried about keeping her happy, or looking nice, or convincing her he was cool. The upside of scoring within or below your league is that sense of security, which was exactly what Draco needed after the uncertainty Granger always brought… wasn’t it? He had wanted to be a better person, and Granger made him feel so wonderful he almost believed it, but Pansy had always accepted him for who he was. Isn’t that what everybody wants? 

“Fuck,” Draco rasped, running a hand through Pansy’s hair and accepting that this was probably for the best anyhow. Sure, it was most like the acceptance at the end of the five stages of grief, but acceptance nonetheless.

He was pulled out of the moment by a sound from the other side of the room, and his eyes shot open. Hermione stood in the door, her eyes wide and teary. Pansy just smiled.

~

Hermione ran down the halls, not even exactly sure where she was going: just sure she needed to get away. 

“Hermione, wait!” she heard Draco yell from behind her, and she didn’t even notice it was the first time he called her by her first name. 

“Stay away from me,” she shakily yelled back. She didn’t realize how fast he would catch up with her- damn those long legs- and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

“I said stay away,” she demanded, but her voice came out so quiet and weak.

“Bet your ass you did,” Draco growled, “you constantly told me you didn’t want me around, didn’t want more from me, didn’t care what I did so long as nobody knew I was doing anything with you.”

Hermione looked away.

“Are you actually going to try to convince me we were exclusive this whole time?” Draco pressed, crossing his arms.

“You were screwing Pansy this whole time?!” Hermione assumed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Draco clarified.

“Maybe you should’ve been, you two are probably better for each other anyways,” Hermione scoffed.

“Don’t say that,” Draco winced.

“Oh my god…” Hermione almost laughed to herself, “everyone was right about you.”

Draco looked at her with an almost blank expression, yet his eyes were bloodshot and tears were welling in them. 

“I was right about you,” she continued, “the  _ first  _ time.”

She just stared at him, expecting him to bite back, defend himself, call her some horrible name. He stared back, the first tear quickly running down his cheek. 

She stepped back.  _ Tell me to stay _ , she found herself wishing against her own better judgement,  _ don’t let me leave. _

He just watched her walk away, stepping backwards, giving him every chance to beg and plead and apologize. He just watched her go and she just watched him cry. He didn’t sob, though, or breathe heavy or whimper. It was the most disturbingly silent cry she’d ever witnessed, still and contemplative, devoid of nearly all outward expressions of pain.

_ Just ask me to stay _ , she thought so strongly she wondered if she could yell it to him without having to say anything. Apparently neither of them were inclined towards telepathy, and so she wordlessly stepped back into the shadows and dashed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not sorry for ending a chapter on that note. I know people are so mad at Hermione right now but I stand by it all, yes she’s been a bit ruthless with him but as someone who was bullied a lot, I relate to her being not super excited about having positive feelings for her bully and someone who has proven to be dangerous. I think he’s reformed and all but I think he’s got a lot of sins to atone for. Pansy, as nasty as she is, was right that two weeks of sex can’t instantly undo seven years of torment. That said… yeah, “I was right about you the first time” was pretty cold, that’s the only time I’ll actually agree she was in the wrong, because she knows that’s the worst thing for him to hear at this point. When you’re hurt you say things you don’t mean just to make someone suffer: hurt people hurt people, as they say. And nobody can hurt you quite as good as the person you love, so it’s just a whole mess all around. Final chapter will come ASAP!


	7. Indescribable

You know those first few seconds when you wake up and you are completely unaware of anything that isn’t directly in front of you? Hermione was looking forward to the idea of waking up and forgetting Draco for even just a second.

The problem was that she kept dreaming about him, so the first thing she thought of when she woke up was whatever she had dreamed… and it was never something worth thinking about. 

She did everything she could to avoid him. It seemed to go well, in part because he seemed just as happy to not be around her. On one hand, she found herself fantasizing about him coming back and grovelling for her. On the other, it always made her feel sick and oddly guilty. She found herself regretting what she said more with each passing moment, which was aggravating because her main goal was just to not think about it at all- but when had not thinking ever worked for Hermione Granger?

It was  _ almost _ like it was before: ignoring Malfoy, being weirdly self-conscious around him, worrying something would happen with him but nothing really ever did. It was just that now she was burdened with knowledge that was burning a hole in her brain. Malfoy in the most intimate, compromising, honest ways. Malfoy with her, Malfoy with someone else. Malfoy was a constant elephant in the room, except skinnier and hotter and also this elephant saw you naked and nearly told you he loved you and then you said something to him you can never take back. 

“...and while I was waiting for my appointment with Professor McGonagall I heard someone else in there, getting completely ripped apart,” Fay’s voice faded in as Hermione crossed through the door to her dormitory. 

“Could you tell who it was?” Lavender asked with so much excitement you’d think it was something actually important. Hermione just sorted her things on her bed, hoping to ignore the conversation.

“Wait, wait, that’s the best part, don’t get ahead of me,” Fay chided. “So, I can barely hear at first, but when I realize McGonagall was yelling, I knew I had to use an Extendable Ear to eavesdrop- glad I always carry one in my bag.”

“Fay!” Parvati admonished.

“What? I’m not going to deny it. You’ll thank me when I tell you what I heard. So someone’s crying and McGonagall is saying there’s been a report, ‘someone claims you pressured them into a sexual act, what do you have to say for yourself?’ Hearing McGonagall say ‘sexual act’ was disturbing beyond all reason, by the way. Anyways, I can barely tell what the person said back because you know how nobody makes any bloody sense when they’re crying, but I guess they denied it because I heard McGonagall say the accuser is willing to present a memory by Pensieve to prove it!”

“Is that normal? I mean, is that how they figure out who’s telling the truth when it’s just one’s word versus another’s?” Parvati asked.   
“I mean, it seems like a pretty reasonable way to sort it out,” Lavender pondered.

“Stop interrupting, I’m not even to the good part yet!” Fay whined. “Anyways, I swear the crying stopped. It was so weird. Like, it just  _ stopped _ . I can never stop crying when I’m in the middle of it, but anyways, I heard someone move and I freaked so I pulled the ear back. A minute later, who walks out of the room, face all red from crying, but…”

All the girls leaned forward. Even Hermione found herself drawn in by the suspense.

“ _ Pansy. Parkinson. _ ”

Hermione literally had to cover her mouth to hide her gasp. Tears welled in her eyes. Had she misinterpreted what she saw, and blamed Draco when he was primarily a victim rather than a perpetrator? 

“You’re kidding. Do you reckon that’s why she missed all her classes today?” Parvati considered.

“Yep, and I’d bet a galleon on it that she’s going to drop out soon, too,” Fay speculated.

Hermione drew her bed curtains shut, charmed so she could no longer hear the gossip. It could be true, it could be false, but it made her think, and thinking made her realize what she needed to do.

~

Draco was in the library; it was mostly empty which was ideal for ignoring one’s problems by immersing in some unimportant book.

He saw her step beside his table in the corner of his eye, he’d be amazed if she thought he could fail to notice her. 

“Malfoy,” she said in a way he couldn’t read into at all. 

He wanted to ask what she wanted from him, why she felt so inclined to continue to torture him by coming around looking all beautiful, if she was as ruined as he was after the night before. He knew if he said any of those things he’d lose it. So he just looked at her, acknowledging her presence but letting her speak further before responding.

“I… wanted to talk to you, tell you something,” she cautiously continued, stepping forward a bit. He looked away.

“I lied,” she admitted nervously. He looked at her again, this time his face giving away his confusion.

“I said that everyone was right about you,” she recalled, as if he could forget, “but that was a lie. Something I said because I was angry and not because I meant it. I was angry because I saw you with someone else, and… the reason that made me angry wasn’t actually that you were with someone else,” she explained, “but rather because…”

She trailed off. And just as she got to the good part, too. Draco swallowed, almost ready to beg her for the rest of the sentence.

“I hated that it made me feel jealous. I didn’t  _ want  _ to care that you were with someone else.”

She cleared her throat, looking at him nervously.

“Everyone was wrong about you, Draco. Even I was. Even the second time. You’re something completely different from what I expected.” 

Draco did his best to keep a neutral expression: for all he knew, she was about to lay into him even worse than before.

“I think people think you’re evil, or hateful. And I thought that too. Then you tried to kiss me- and there was so much pain. You were in so much pain, and I never saw it. But I was wrong about you then, too, because I thought I could just sleep with you and move on, but that was never going to work, was it?”

“You didn’t want more,” Draco mumbled, remembering everything she had made so painfully clear.

“Of course I did, I always-” Hermione stopped herself but Draco knew it was too late for that, and he felt his expression perk up.

“Not always,” she corrected herself. “I really, truly hated you then. But I thought I could satisfy some morbid curiosity and let it go. Was it like that for you, too? Did you offer yourself in hopes that you wouldn’t think about me in the wrong way anymore?”

Draco considered the question. He figured that’s what it would’ve been if this were 5th or 6th year, when he hated himself for his ill-fated fancy-ing. 

“Not really,” Draco admitted. “That might have been what I told myself, when I tried to kiss you that first time. But after that, I think I realized that I wanted to convince you to trust me, if even for a moment, because if you could…” he trailed off, unsure how to explain the feeling.

“If I could trust you, anyone could,” Hermione finished.

“No,” he corrected, “if you could trust me, then I would be worth trusting. You’re always right. So, it wasn’t about other people. It was about you, and me. Just us.”

_ Us,  _ it hung in the air like Christmas lights, twinkling with hope.

“I heard Pansy’s dropping out,” Hermione subtly broached the topic. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of things, I can’t say what’s true. I told her I’d let it go if she left the school. She’s finally stopped bugging me, so I’m satisfied with the outcome,” Draco shrugged.

“Did she really…?” Hermione whispered, stopping mid-sentence as if she knew it were an inappropriate question to ask, yet was too curious to suppress it entirely.

“It’s not like she forced herself on me. I could’ve pushed her off, I’m not innocent in all this. But I did tell her to stop… at least twice, I think. She’s dropping out because she knew my memory would prove some questionable goings-on.”

Hermione made a sympathetic expression, but looked lost for words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Draco added finally.

“Yes, I do: I came here to apologize,” she concluded. “If you accept my apology… I’ll leave you be.”

Draco was almost ready to watch her go. Almost ready to let it be in the past, because how could you come back from everything they’d been through? She turned away and he was almost ready to watch her shut that door and close the book on their clandestine, indescribable whirlwind of a romance.

“Hermione,” he called out, and she turned just as she was stepping out of the doorway. He jumped from his seat, crossing the room at record speed.

“Never apologize to me,” he demanded oncemore, pulling her into him by the collar and kissing her like it was some stupid cheesy movie (which it wasn’t), or like it was the best decision he had ever made in his life (which it was).

She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss, falling back against the door frame. There could have been people walking in the hall, and they’d be kissing in full display of them: neither of them knew or cared, but just between you and I, there were a few people in that hallway who saw the kiss and they all reacted with a resounding thought of  _ took those two damn long enough _ .

~

Draco’s face was flushed pink, and Hermione assumed it was from the cold, even though he was wrapped up quite thoroughly in jackets and scarves.

“Ah, hello,” he said when he saw her, and it was an oddly formal greeting, yet Hermione understood: everything felt new and fresh, despite all that had occurred.

Hermione approached him and tried to not smile  _ too  _ hard.

“Where do we start?” she asked.

“Well, we could be stereotypical and go to Madam Puddifoot’s,” Draco offered.

“Please, no,” Hermione begged.

“Oh, thank Merlin, I wasn’t sure what I would do if you wanted to go. Much too tacky,” Draco shook his head. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been meaning to stop by Scrivenshaft’s to replace my best quill,” Hermione remembered, “I don’t want to turn this into a bunch of errand-running.”

_ This _ . What a nice way to ignore that it was a date, the idea of which still freaked her out quite a bit.

“Oh, no problem at all. I need to run an errand myself: some resin from Maestro’s.”

“Resin?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, for my violin,” Draco explained.

“What?!” she gasped.

“I guess I don’t talk about it much. But if you’re living in the Slytherin dorms, one becomes aware of it quickly, due to non-consensual exposure to the damn thing screeching,” he smiled.

“Isn’t the violin a Muggle instrument?” 

“Invented by Andrea Amati, fourteenth century wizard who used magic to enhance his creations. I’m surprised you didn’t already know that,” Draco teased.

Their footsteps crunched in the snow as they strolled together, keeping their hands in their pockets to stay warm. After shopping, chatting, and cautiously holding hands a few times, they stopped for a pint at the Hog’s Head Inn.

“So I was thinking,” Hermione began, looking up at him from across the wooden table.

“This never ends well for me,” Draco observed.

“We should date,” Hermione continued.

“Okay, better than usual,” Draco noted with a raised brow.

“But maybe we should, er, not… maybe we should stop shagging,” Hermione finished, blushing a bit.

“Nope, never ends well for me,” Draco concluded.

“I just think it might be good to start over, in a way. Follow a slightly more normal progression. I mean, it’s not like it’ll never happen: not so much stopping as a break. Do you think it’s a bad idea?” 

“No, no, it’s a good idea,” he sighed, “it’s just not a particularly fun idea.”

“That’s fair,” she chuckled, “but you should know already that I’m not actually very fun.”

“Who said that?” he asked, puzzled.

“Er, everyone?” she answered with confusion.

“Well, they just don’t know you like I do,” Draco smiled.

“I’ll drink to that,” Hermione offered her mug for a toast, and he clinked his against hers before joining her in a slow, pensive sip.

\---

“Ready?” Draco asked, looking back at her from the front of the broom. She met his eyes with determination.

“Always,” she countered.

She still screamed a bit when he sent them shooting towards the clouds at a ridiculously high speed, but it was joyful, turning quickly into a laugh. He laughed along with her, although she wondered if it was also at her for still being afraid of flying.

The truth is, Hermione had no idea at the time if this was the kind of relationship that could last a lifetime. They certainly would have to beat all the odds to work that out, but Hermione smiled at the idea of it: a wedding with all their friends together and celebrating, adorable little kids, nights in watching TV and eating take-out, sending out Christmas cards… everything. It certainly sounded nice. Maybe they would grow apart as lovers but stay good friends, keeping in touch throughout the years, even as they met new partners and had the rest of their lives separately. Maybe it would all go down in flames and she would hate him like she used to. It didn’t matter, really. You don’t need to know where your life is going to take in the scenery where you are now. And as Hermione looked across the scenery herself- Hogwarts growing smaller behind them, the hills and trees and rivers ahead, Draco smiling with his hair flying freely in the wind- she knew she would remember this moment for the rest of her life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys don’t hate me for leaving the ending ambiguous… but I figured I couldn’t piss you off much more than I did after the end of Chapter 2. Then I did in 6. So now I know I can’t do much worse than that. Tried to have lots of bonus fluff to make up for all the angst.  
But for real, thank you so much to all of you for reading! I took a long break from writing and it was so great to hear from people who enjoyed this new one. Kudos and comments are so, so appreciated :) Thanks again everyone!


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